The Morrigan's Curse
by flames4thought
Summary: TimeTravel fic. Hermione is flung back to the 1946 when a combined killing curse and deflection charm hit her in the final battle. Or is it actually divine intervention from a goddess? Unfortunately for her, she lands in Malfoy Manor where her sudden appearance attracts the interest of a young Tom Riddle. Tomione eventually. DH compliant to the Final Battle. *Temporary Hiatus*
1. The Final Battle

**_Disclaimer:_ Because nothing belongs to me... **

**_Rating:_** **T** **for language and potential violence and references to torture... you get the idea.**

 ** _Summary:_ TimeTravel fic. Hermione is flung back to the 1940's when a combined killing curse and deflection charm hit her in the final battle. Or is it divine intervention from a goddess? Unfortunately for her, she lands in Malfoy Manor where her sudden appearance attracts the interest of a young Tom Riddle. Tomione eventually. **

_Nor dread nor hope attend_

 _A dying animal;_

 _A man awaits his end_

 _Dreading and hoping all;_

 _Many times he died,_

 _Many times rose again._

 _A great man in his pride_

 _Confronting murderous men_

 _Casts derision upon_

 _Supersession of breath;_

 _He knows death to the bone—_

 _Man has created death._

 _\- Death_ , W.B Yeats

Silence filled the courtyard as Lord Voldemort spoke. "Harry Potter is DEAD!" he screamed, surveying the crowd of Order and DA members. Most faces went ashen as his words sunk in and murmurs began to fill the hall as people spotted the teenager in Hagrid's arms.

Hermione and Ron shoved their way to the front of the crowd unable to believe Voldemort unless they saw Harry's body for themselves. Hermione's gut clenched as she saw Harry's limp body in the arm's of his first friend. Almost all of their hopes had been pinned on him defeating Voldemort. It seemed like it was up to her and Ron now but she couldn't think of anything under the numbing grief of seeing her best friend dead. "Harry!" she screamed, breaking away from the crowd and running toward the Death Eaters.

"Hermione, NO!" Ron yelled as he tried to follow her but was restrained by his older brothers.

"You'll pay for this," Hermione spat as she reached Voldemort and raised her wand. Wand points were fixed on her but Voldemort held up a hand to stay any curses his followers might cast.

"How, little girl?" he drawled, "Dumbledore's pathetic plan has failed. He led you to believe that a mere boy was your salvation and look at the result." He gestured around him at the devastation the battle had wrought. "He lied to you. Manipulated you. Sent you on a foolish treasure hunt that almost got you killed a number of times. Tell me… was he any better than me in the end? At least I never hid the fact that I was after power."

Hermione swallowed. "I-I…" she stammered. Her wand point wavered and fell. Ron snarled wordlessly behind her as he struggled violently against his brothers.

"Exactly," Voldemort hissed, "Now, too much magical blood has been spilt this day. I do not wish to spill any more if I can help it—"

"Don't fucking listen to the bastard, Hermione!" Ron screamed, "He's making it seem so bloody reasonable but he's twisting the truth."

"Silence!" Voldemort barked as he waved his wand at Ron. Ron yelped and fell limp. Hermione half turned yelling "Ron!" but was immobilised as Voldemort waved his wand again. She glared as her body twisted involuntarily toward the Dark Wizard and saw the smirk on his face. "As I was saying," Voldemort said smoothly, "I do not wish to spill any more precious magical blood." He paused and ran a finger over Hermione's cheek and chuckled as she flinched back slightly. "Even that of unworthy mudbloods. So I shall be lenient toward those who opposed me today as long as they swear fealty to me and my new order."

There was a long moment of silence as everyone absorbed Voldemort's conditions for living… for surviving this. "Fuck that," Hermione spat. Her eyes flashed with a fiery defiance that had been absent moments before. "You killed my best friend. All of this…" She waved her hand around her similarly to the Dark Lord's gesture moments before, "Is _your_ fault. And for what? What do you gain from this? Power?" She snorted disparagingly. "Look at that. You have it, and a world to kneel at your feet. But you'll never… _never_ understand the power of the force that opposed you. The _love_ that you've destroyed. Because in the end you're nothing except a schoolyard bully who got out of control. You—"

"Enough," Voldemort hissed, cutting her off angrily, "If _love_ …" He sneered the word, spittle flying out of his mouth and splattering her face. "…was so important, why did you fail? Why are you standing in front of me defeated? Why was the only person with the ability to destroy me a naïve schoolboy?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. Her shoulders slumped and tears stung he corners of her eyes. Voldemort laughed and Hermione stumbled back a few steps putting distance between her and the icy sound. She waited for him to stop before she straightened her shoulders and raised her head to glare defiantly at him. "The only explanation I can think of is that this isn't over yet."

Voldemort laughed again, chilling his audience. "You think you can still—" He broke off incredulously as Hermione calmly raised her wand and pointed it steadily at him, steeling herself for what she'd decided to do.

" _Avada kedavra,_ " she whispered and watched as a bolt of green light streaked toward her target. Voldemort swore and spun out of the way. There was a strangled yelp from Hagrid behind Voldemort but the entire courtyard was silent otherwise. No one moved.

"It's not that easy to kill me," he hissed, scowling at the young woman who dared to defy him.

"It is now," a familiar voice said from behind Voldemort. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in Harry's battered form behind Voldemort. "The horcruxes are gone, _Tom_. You personally just dealt with the last one… So I guess that means you're mortal again."

"Harry," Hermione breathed. Harry inclined his head to her, smiling slightly. His smile vanished as he focussed on Voldemort who whirled around in a fury.

"YOU!" he screeched.

"Yes, me," Harry agreed, "Tired of me yet?"

"Why won't you die?" Voldemort screamed, brandishing his wand at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe your heart just isn't in it," he said, "Didn't you once tell me you had to _mean it_ when you used Unforgivables?"

"Maybe," Voldemort murmured, "I should target your loved ones instead…"

Harry's eyes widened with panic. "NO!" he yelled, "This is between you and me. There isn't—"

"INCARCEROUS!" Voldemort yelled and Hermione screamed as ropes bound Harry tightly.

"Harry!" she yelled. She waved her wand to free him but Voldemort blocked her spell with a simple slash.

"Now," Voldemort said conversationally, "Shall I kill your mudblood whore, or your blood traitor weasel first?"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Hermione shrieked. Voldemort only laughed and responded by sending a cutting curse toward her. She dodged the bolt of red light and glanced over her shoulder, wondering why no one else was reacting. There were plenty of survivors but only she and Voldemort seemed capable of motion at the moment. As she did she realized that the rest of the DA and Order – the surviving members at any rate – were battling with Death Eaters in the peripheries of the courtyard. And she, Voldemort, and Harry appeared to be inside a dome like shield that no spell could penetrate. Her mouth fell open as she wondered what spell the caster had used. Unfortunately, in her preoccupation she didn't notice the second cutting curse the Dark Lord had cast until the last second.

She jumped out of the way a second too late and the curse caught her in her left shoulder. She cried out in pain and surprise as her wand jerked out of her hand as well and clattered to the ground a couple of feet away. Voldemort smirked at her as she clutched her injured arm. "I guess this is the end…" he sneered starting to say the incantation for the killing curse.

Hermione scrabbled for her wand and just barely managed to grab it as the jet of green light streaked toward her too quickly for her to dodge it. She closed her eyes waiting for it to hit her only to hear Harry's wordless shout and blink them open again. She blinked again as she realized he'd somehow managed to free himself from the Dark Lord's restraints and cast a deflection charm. The purple and green beams of light merged and turned a crackling ice blue. Hermione gasped as the combined spells hit her and a ball of electricity seemed to explode around her.

Her hair rose on end and her entire body tingled with electricity and power as she slowly rose into the air, centred in the crackling orb of energy. She gasped as a stray bolt of energy hit her and burned her skin. Desperately she tried to move… to get away from what she was sure was about to kill her but found she was unable to. "HARRY!" she screamed, stretching a hand out toward him as the world began to flicker oddly and then disappeared as the dome-like shield the three of them had been in contracted around her.

In the darkness that surrounded her, she heard four words spoken clearly. _Too much blood spilled…_ The voice seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. It was an echo of Voldemort's words earlier and she recognized his hissing voice in the words but also Harry's resounding tone and a high, clear woman's voice she didn't recognize. "Harry?" she whispered into the silence and suddenly the world seemed to explode again as she slammed into the ground.


	2. To Hell with the Consequences

**_Disclaimer:_ Because nothing belongs to me...**

 ** _Rating:_** **T** **for language and potential violence and references to torture... you get the idea.**

 ** _Summary:_ TimeTravel fic. Hermione is flung back to the 1950's when a combined killing curse and deflection charm hit her in the final battle. Or is it divine intervention from a goddess? Unfortunately for her, she lands in Malfoy Manor where her sudden appearance attracts the interest of a young Tom Riddle. Tomione eventually.**

 **A/N: Hello lovelies. I am so thrilled with the response I've received with just one chapter so I'm posting this chapter earlier than intended. Just a bit of housekeeping and I'll let you go. So I am currently writing this, meaning I have no idea where its going... but I have about 6 chapters backlogged so updates should be fairly frequent (I'm thinking weekly) until my writing dries up and I have nothing left. Sundays or Mondays will probably be when I update but don't quote me on that in the long run because I will inevitably miss an update eventually. Also... this is un-betaed so any mistakes are my own. Ok. That's it. Enjoy (and review - I'd love the feedback)!**

* * *

 _I have an old woman's secrets now_ _  
_

 _That had those of the young;_

 _Madge tells me what I dared not think_

 _When my blood was strong,_

 _And what had drowned a lover once_

 _Sounds like an old song._

\- _The Secrets of the Old_ , W.B. Yeats

Hermione gasped with as her impact with the ground jarred her injured shoulder. "Harry!" she screamed again, looking up only to realize she was no longer in the courtyard outside of Hogwarts. "Harry?" she whispered, "Ron?" She sat up cautiously, clutching her wand tightly, and looked around the spacious room she was in.

An elegant Victorian style furniture set upholstered in pale green fabric was arranged at one end of the room. A long cherry table with matching chairs was at the other end of the room. Other furniture - several cabinets, a desk end tables, and a few bookshelves were arranged with several paintings along the cream walls of the room. Hermione stared bewilderedly at the room, wondering how on earth she'd gotten here. She jumped as a cold voice spoke.

"Who are you and where did you come from?"

She turned to face a tall dark haired man in his late teens or early twenties. His cold blue eyes were regarding her hostilely. He was flanked by two men about the same age as him. One was a spitting image of Malfoy and the other was an eerily familiar dark-haired and lanky man with a long face and brown eyes.

"Malfoy?" she whispered, staring at the angular pale man to the speaker's right.

"I'm afraid you have us at a disadvantage miss," the leader said sharply, "Who are you?"

Hermione shook her head violently. "I-I don't know where I am or how I got here," she whispered, "Please…"

"Abraxas," the man snapped impatiently, cutting her off, "Could you please check the Wards and see if you can figure out how she got past them? Thoros, contact the others. There won't be a meeting tonight after all."

"Tom…" Abraxas murmured, "She's injured. Maybe we should tend to her before you interrogate her." Tom glared at the pale man who flinched and nodded sharply before leaving the room with Thoros. Hermione felt her gut clench tightly as she realized who this must be and where – _when_ – she must be.

"Tom Riddle?" Hermione whispered, horror tying her stomach in knots. She flinched away from the man as he turned back to her.

"Yes," he said curtly watching her with icy blue eyes.

Hermione took a sharp breath. This wasn't good. She was somehow fifty years in the past in the same room as the soon-to-be Dark Lord. Her eyes slid closed as she tried to figure out a course of action. She remembered the Time-Turner from her third year. _Do not be seen. Do not be heard. Do NOT change anything._ Too late not to be seen or heard. There were three hostile men who were particularly interested in who she was and where she was from. And one of them would become the most feared man in recent wizarding history. To the point that almost no one would speak his name.

She screwed her eyes shut thinking. _What does it matter?_ she thought eventually, _The future sucks and this may mean I'm never born or Harry isn't or… something but at least_ he _won't be responsible for all of those deaths_. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and raised her wand weakly to point at Tom Riddle. " _Avada kedavra_ ," she said softly.

Riddle cursed under his breath and dodged her curse awkwardly. "Bloody hell," he snapped, "What the fuck is your problem?"

"You," she hissed.

"I'm sorry, but we've never met," Riddle snarled, his wand raised and watching her warily. Hermione remembered everything Harry had told her about him. _He's smart and charming. You don't realize that it's just a mask hiding a blackened and rotting soul until it's too late._

 _Well he's not doing so well with the charming exterior at the moment_ , she thought wryly, _I guess I caught him off guard._ She struggled to her feet and shot another curse at him. Her arm was painful to move and she felt dizzy from the blood loss. It was likely she would die here and she intended to take him with her.

"We will," she gasped, flicking her wand to send another curse at him. He blocked it easily, staring contemplatively at her. She started to cast another curse but he waved his wand, unexpectedly catching her with a disarming spell. He caught her wand easily as it flew out of her hand and she retreated as he advanced on her.

"We will, will we?" he murmured, "And what will I do that will make you so eager to murder me?"

Hermione shook her head desperately, aware that he had the advantage here. This was a place he was familiar with – he knew the terrain. She didn't have a wand and was losing a lot of blood from that blasted shoulder. It was making it hard to think clearly. She should have stayed her hand… put him at ease before she tried to kill him. She felt a flash of relief as she bumped into a door behind her and grasped the handle desperately. She turned the handle, ready to escape, not sure that it was possible but desperate to try.

"No," Riddle snarled furiously and she felt her body go rigid as he cast the body-bind curse on her, "You don't want to do that." He grabbed her injured arm roughly and shoved her into a chair. Tears streamed down her face at the stabbing pain that flooded her shoulder.

" _Incarcerous_ ," he muttered under his breath and ropes bound her arms and legs to the chair he'd shoved her into. " _Finite._ " She flinched as the paralysis wore off and jerked at the ropes restraining her arms.

"Let me go," she snapped.

"And let you run away or try to kill me again?" Riddle asked. His lilting voice had an airy amused cadence to it and she glared at him. "I don't think so. You're an intriguing specimen and I'd like to examine you for a bit."

Hermione remained silent, glaring at the floor stonily. She was becoming increasingly light-headed the longer she went without medical treatment and she hoped that she passed out from blood loss before Riddle could interrogate her for too long. She could see his shoes as he paced around her chair examining her.

"You've come from a fight of some kind," he murmured, brushing a hand along the back of the upholstery on her chair. She strained forward, desperate to put as much space between herself and the young Dark Lord as possible. He only chuckled and moved his hand to brush her shoulder, causing her to flinch as his fingers brushed against the oozing cut. "This is a nasty cut. Cutting curse?" He pressed his finger into the raw flesh causing her to gasp in pain.

There was a long silence. Finally, Riddle spoke again. "I'm waiting," he murmured, pressing his thumb more firmly into her shoulder. She looked up into his face and noticed the malicious glee that filled it as he hurt her.

"Y-yes," Hermione gasped, unable to take it any more, "Please…" He removed his hand easily and wiped it on her tattered shirt.

"I imagine you've lost a lot of blood."

Hermione nodded, her eyes squeezed shut to ward off some of the dizziness.

"Enough that you're hoping you'll die."

Hermione's eyes shot open and met Riddle's icy blue ones that were positioned less than a foot away from hers. He'd moved to kneel easily in front of her, regarding her carefully. _Master legimens, intuitive, intelligent,_ more of Harry's description of a young Voldemort filtered through her mind and Riddle laughed in delight as he perceived her thoughts.

"You won't," he said with certainty, "You're far too interesting for me to let you die now, aren't you?" He stood up and made his way over to one of the cabinets by the wall. He opened it and pulled out a vial of something that was blood red. "Blood replenishing potion," he said by explanation as he walked back over. He uncorked it and then forced her jaw open and poured the potion down her throat. She sputtered and coughed, trying to spit the potion up but he'd done a good job getting the potion down before letting her go. She let half a sob escape her mouth as the dizziness receded.

"Who's Harry?"

"A friend," Hermione spat.

Riddle raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think I need a bit more than that," he said. She shook her head stubbornly and he sighed. "Fine," he said, "We can talk about how you came to be here instead."

Hermione was silent and Riddle growled with frustration. "This can be easy or it can be hard," he said, "So far you're choosing hard – which I'm fine with – but it is much more unpleasant for you, dear."

"I don't know," Hermione whispered. She didn't fail to notice how Riddle's eyes lit up at her response.

"Ah good," he drawled, "You are capable of a civil response." Hermione bit back a retort and he smiled at her lazily. "Not knowing is fine. We can still talk about what happened just before you ended up in this particular room."

Hermione looked at him sharply, sensing that the fact she showed up in this room in particular was significant. "What's special about this room?" she asked.

"It's Wards are second to none… with the possible exception of my personal suite," Riddle explained, "No one except myself and a few select others can enter or exit this room without my express permission. And yet you did."

Hermione swallowed and stared at the floor. "M-maybe," she whispered, "You could let me go and we could talk?"

"Ah-ah," Riddle tutted, "You tried to kill me. If I let you go, what will stop you from trying again?"

"You have my wand," she snapped, "It's not exactly like I have any weapons here or that you couldn't possibly overpower me before I managed to attack you with my bare hands."

Tom's eyes gleamed. "There is a wealth of information I want from you, dear," he said, "If you answer this first set of questions, I will let you go."

"Fine," Hermione snapped, her eyes closely slowly, trying to figure out what she could tell him.

"No filtering," he said sharply.

"What do you want to know?" she asked wearily, leaning her head against the back of the chair.

"Let's start with your name."

"Hermione."

"No family name, Hermione?" he laughed as he realized she would continue to be close lipped with information.

"H-hermione Granger," she whispered.

"I don't believe I am familiar with that one, meaning your father was probably a mudblood…"

"He was a muggle," she whispered, "As was my mother."

"Oh my," Riddle laughed again, "And I thought my parentage was bad."

"With a muggle father?" Hermione snarled. Her lips were drawn back grotesquely at the insult to her parents. They'd been good to her… loved her, taken care of her… and she'd loved them back. Enough to erase herself from their minds so they'd be safe. She didn't think she'd ever see them again.

She felt a brief flash of satisfaction at his sharp intake of breath. "How…" he started to ask but trailed off shaking his head slightly. "How did you come to be here?" he said instead.

"As far as I can tell a killing curse and deflection charm merged into a single spell and when it hit me, I ended up here," Hermione said softly. She didn't want to get into the details of who's killing curse it was or who had tried to deflect it and why. It was dangerous for Riddle to know about his own future and if he found out she was intimately familiar with it he would never let it go. As she watched his eyes examine hers for deceit, she knew he suspected but was waiting for more clues before he pieced everything together.

"Interesting combination," Riddle murmured, "It begs the question who was trying to kill you… and who wanted to save you…" Hermione flinched as his blue eyes seemed to x-ray her and he smiled thinly in her direction. "Easy or hard, dear?" he reminded her softly. She swallowed hard and felt her shoulder throb uncomfortably remembering the feeling of his fingers digging into the cut.

"Y-you cast the killing curse," she mumbled, "And Harry tried to deflect it to save me." Riddle's face was an open book. She could see the desire and greed that filled it only too clearly as he silently stalked her, waiting for her to elaborate. When it became clear that she wasn't about to say more without a prompt, he scowled and moved in front of her again.

"I don't recall ever meeting you or this Harry," he murmured, reaching out a slender hand and tipping her chin up so she had no choice but to look him in the eye.

"Because you haven't yet," she whispered closing her eyes against the knowledge that he was about to figure everything out.

"And you have?"

"Yes. Multiple times."

"When?" His fingers dug into her chin insistently and her eyes flew open to regard his glittering ones again. He looked like he'd found a wonderful toy to play with and she shuddered in his grip. "When?" he snapped.

"The first time I-I was 15… The second and third time I was 17," she stammered.

"What year, Hermione?" he hissed, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips and she shivered.

"1996… I met you for the first time in 1996," she whispered.

"And when are you from? What year was it when you accidentally ended up here in this room?" Riddle trailed his hand down her face and she looked at him completely stricken.

"1998."

He smiled widely. "Oh my dear," he breathed into her ear, "You are going to be such a useful toy." Hermione shuddered violently, eliciting a chuckle from him. He waved his wand and her bonds released.


	3. Invisible Chains

**A/N - Happy Sunday! Unfortunately it means Monday is one day closer and I'll be braving the lake tomorrow to help out a lab-mate with her sampling. Ah well, anything is better than the office I suppose... Thank you everyone for taking the time to follow/review. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Yet...**

* * *

 _Hate traps us by binding us too closely to our adversary._

\- Milan Kundera

She sagged into the chair gasping, and stared at him in horror as he swished his wand again, wordlessly casting a spell she didn't recognize. A gold ribbon streamed out of his wand and encircled her wrist. The other end wrapped around his, binding the two of them together. She squeezed her eyes shut as the ribbon burned her skin, shining blindingly, and then faded from sight. She could still feel it though as she rubbed her wrist gingerly. As she looked up at Riddle, she felt a gentle tug on her wrist and gasped as with a simple gesture she was forced to stand up and move closer to him.

"An interesting little spell I found in Abraxas' library," Riddle murmured, "It creates an invisible bond between the castor and his target so that she cannot move outside of a certain radius of him. In past generations, men would cast the spell on their wives to limit their movements and prevent infidelity."

"It's sick," Hermione whispered, taking a step backward and finding she couldn't. Riddle smiled at her, made another gesture, and she felt the leash attaching her to him shorten yet again forcing her to take another step closer.

"That may be so," Riddle said, "But it guarantees that you can't escape me." She didn't like the edge his smile had when he smiled at her again and pulled out her wand, offering it to her. "It also prevents you from harming me, so it's safe to return this to you."

She took her wand back warily, feeling relief as it returned to her possession. She didn't feel quite so defenseless or naked with it on her person. She pointed it at him experimentally, whispered the incantation for the killing curse and screamed as a pain far worse than Bellatrix's torture curse ripped through her. She crumpled to the floor, shaking badly, and gasping with pain. Riddle merely smiled at her and offered a hand to help her up. She shook her head and gripped the arm of a chair to stagger back to her feet.

"Do you want to test it again?" he asked politely, his eyes gleaming. She shook her head mutely and he chuckled. She winced and sank down into a chair shakily.

"What… what now?" she asked hoarsely. She stared at her wrist as though she could still see the golden chain wrapped around it… binding her to this man who would spark two wizarding wars.

"I think," Riddle mused, "that the rest of the interrogation can wait until another day. You look spent, my dear… and we have many hours of intriguing conversation ahead of us." Hermione didn't respond. She just hugged her stomach tightly and hunched in on herself. Why couldn't she have been innocuous? An uninteresting – or less interesting – person that he might have killed at the end… He might still kill her, she thought, but he would play with her first. He already was.

She shuddered as he gently lifted her injured arm. "Of course," he murmured, "We can't have you bleeding all over Abraxas' manor either. I suppose I should heal that." Her eyes slid shut against her tears as his wand passed over the wound and she felt the skin stitch together uncomfortably. Then he gripped her upper arm tightly and dragged her upright. "A shower and then bed, I think," he said brightly, releasing her and beckoning at her over his shoulder as he proceeded out of the room.

She pocketed her wand carefully and followed him reluctantly. Her leash tugged her along behind him and he easily navigated the manor's halls. She froze as they passed the drawing room and stumbled as the binding jerked her forward. Bellatrix's excited cackle at her screams filled her head and she shook her head trying to shake the paralysis that set in seeing the site of her torture at Bellatrix's hands. She tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and following Riddle as the binding got shorter and jerked her further off balance.

As the climax of the torture flashed back, she fell to her hands and knees and Riddle turned back to her with an irritated frown. "What?" he asked heatedly and then caught the stricken expression on her face. "What happened to you here?" he asked curiously, his voice softening as he seemed to realize that she had no control over her reaction.

"I was tortured in there," she said shivering as he offered her a hand up and she took it, forgetting for a moment who he was and what he would do in the future. Her hand unconsciously brushed over the scar hidden under the sleeve of her shirt. Her personal brand that would mark her as lower class forever. Tom's eyes lingered on her motion curiously but didn't press the issue.

"A tale for another day," Riddle responded as she released his hand as though she had been burned.

The rest of the journey passed in silence and the Dark Lord finally opened a door and ushered her in to a suite of rooms. "These are mine," he said, surveying her as she took in the simple space. It was a utilitarian space with three doors branching off the receiving room. A small sitting area dominated the space but she was certain that she was the only other person to have ever entered these rooms. "The bedroom and bathroom is through there," he said, gesturing to the middle door, "My study is on the right. There will never be any reason for you to step foot in there."

"What's the last room?" she asked when he made no move to mention it.

He fixed her with a cold smile. "Let's hope you never have to find out," he said, "You're welcome to use the receiving room, the bedroom, and the bathroom. Everywhere else is off limits, capiche?"

Hermione jerked her head in a nod, numb. "Yes," she murmured.

Riddle smiled again. "Good. I will make sure there are some bed clothes waiting for you once you are finished your shower." With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

As the door closed behind him with a soft swick, she whirled around and tried the handle experimentally. It refused to budge so she tried to cast the unlocking charm on it with little hope of it working. She knew logically that he wouldn't have left her here alone if he wasn't sure of the room's impermeability. She was too valuable for him to risk – to the cruelty of his followers, or her own desire to escape – but she had to try to get away anyway. So when _Alohomora_ didn't work, nor any of the other spells she could think of that might unlock the door, she began to cast diagnostic spells, only to come to the conclusion that Tom Riddle himself was the only person who could open that door. The lock required his magical signature to open.

She hugged her stomach tightly, feeling the weight of her situation begin to drown her. As tears began to pool in her eyes she turned and ran for the bathroom, desperate to wash the grime of the battle and the stench of terror off herself even if it was only until she had to face _him_ again. She had no doubt that over the next few weeks she would slowly spill all of her secrets and feel filthier and filthier as she did.

As she stood under the running water she let the tears slide down her face until she was sobbing desperately and crumpled in a ball on the floor of the shower. The water pooled around her and eventually cooled until she couldn't bear the chill permeating her bones. Then she scrubbed herself raw and tumbled out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, still sobbing, to find a set of silk pajamas folded at the end of the king-sized bed. She eyed the bed warily for a few moments after dressing before she slowly made her way back into the small receiving room and curled up in an armchair. She stayed there, staring at the door she'd entered the suite through, until she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	4. Puzzling Wards and Dreams

**A/N: Sending my love to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed. I can't believe how many followers there are for this fic after just three chapters. Anyway, a chapter a day or two early because I'm simply too excited about it to wait (and because I've pretty well finished writing Ch 8...). I love how the second half of this chapter came out. It just... happened. So... please read, review, and enjoy!**

 **Cheers,**

 **flames4thought**

* * *

 _Do not pass by my epitaph, traveler._

 _But having stopped, listen and learn, then go your way._

 _There is no boat in Hades, no ferryman Charon_

 _No caretaker Aiakos, no dog Cerberus._

 _All we who are dead below_

 _Have become bones and ashes, but nothing else._

 _I have spoken to you honestly, go on, traveler,_

 _Lest even while dead I seem babbling to you_

\- _The Corinthian Body,_ Dale Martin

Tom paused as he left his suite, curious to know what the strange girl who'd dropped out of the future would do left unattended. She possessed a deep-seated fear and hatred of him. Her brown eyes gleamed with it and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened – what he'd done – for her to look at him that way.

He rested a hand on the door as he felt her cast unlocking charms and diagnostic charms on the door. His lips quirked as her spells became more and more obscure. She was intelligent then. He'd been intrigued by her creativity when they duelled. Her use of Unforgiveables had been shaky – as though she wasn't quite committed to their use – and while her other spells were flawlessly cast, they hadn't been quite enough to evade him.

These spells though, were creative in their application, intense in their execution, and they hinted even more at the intelligence and power of the witch who'd fallen through time practically into his lap. A gift, he thought with an ironic twist to his lips. One he intended to hold very close indeed.

He waited, wondering if he would have to intervene before she attempted to use a blasting curse on the door. He supposed it didn't matter. She wouldn't be able to leave the room even if she destroyed the surrounding walls. The wards would contain her regardless of the destruction she wrought within them. However, it seemed she was also intelligent enough to realize that nothing she could do would release her from her prison, as with a last diagnostic charm he felt her move further into his chambers. When he heard the soft sound of water running indicating that she'd finally deigned to follow his orders, he nodded sharply and left to find Abraxas.

It didn't take long. Abraxas was standing outside the meeting room looking perplexed as he waved his wand casting the same spell repeatedly. "Anything?" Tom asked, approaching him from behind.

Abraxas jumped and turned to look at Tom accusingly. "You scared me," he snapped. Tom merely raised an eyebrow at him and Abraxas swallowed uncomfortably before shaking his head. "No," he said, "Nothing. The Wards are completely intact… They register her… intrusion into them but none of the defenses were triggered. Something protected her when she went through…"

"How?" Tom snapped.

"I don't know," Abraxas floundered, looking at Tom anxiously, "I really don't. It's almost like you let her in… and I know you didn't… but the permission seemed to be there…"

Tom nodded thoughtfully, filing the piece of information away for later. It was possible his future self had intended for her to return to the past and given her permission to pass through the wards. Or at least he thought so.

"Thank you Abraxas," Tom murmured.

"Will that be all, my lord?" Abraxas asked.

Tom shook his head. "Hermione will be staying with us and needs clothing. Would you mind procuring some appropriate attire for her? As would befit a member of your household… and my fiancé?"

"Tom…" Abraxas protested, "You can't possibly intend… She's…"

"Fascinating," Tom cut him off sharply, "A veritable wealth of information that I intend to keep very close. And she needs an alibi. Which means that she is your long lost cousin."

Abraxas nodded. "Whatever you say my Lord," he murmured, bowing slightly and walking away as Tom dismissed him.

Tom extended his senses as Abraxas left, testing the wards for himself. He frowned when he could sense nothing out of the ordinary about the wards. They were as strong as normal and he could feel the slight ripples from Hermione's entrance earlier but there was a mark of permission on her signature. He grimaced. He would have to ply her for more information on how she came her tomorrow. As much as he wanted to continue interrogating her tonight, he could tell pushing her much more would only burn her out… and he intended to make her last as long as possible.

He stalked into the sitting room to greet Thoros and inquire after the others. Thoros offered their missives expressing disappointment that the meeting had been cancelled and he snorted. He remembered the terrified recognition in Hermione's eyes when she'd learned his name. They feared him… and they feared him even more in the future where his name was commonplace. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. In some ways it was everything he'd ever dreamed of – recognition for being the brilliant wizard he was despite his upbringing – but he couldn't help but wonder if there was a better way. Dumbledore was powerful, even if he was a meddling fool… and yet he was beloved.

HG*TR

Hermione sat up with a start. Hogwarts… Voldemort… Harry dead… no alive… the killing curse… Riddle… She shook her head trying to shake her disorientation and blinked as the room she was in came into focus. She wasn't where she last remembered: Riddle's sparse suite of rooms. Instead she was in a large cavern. She shivered remembering Harry's tale of a locket in a basin at the centre of a cavernous lake. A hiding place for a horcrux. She didn't think this cave was the same. The details didn't add up for one. There was no lake or island.

"Hello?" she called uncertainly as she examined the cold grey walls that dripped with a dark liquid. She stood up unsteadily and reached out to brush her finger against one drip of liquid. She wanted it to be water, needed it to be water. It wasn't. Her finger came away from the wall stained red. _Blood,_ she thought, swallowing hard against the nausea that uncoiled in her stomach.

"Hello?" she whispered again, certain she wasn't alone but unsure whether she wanted to know who was here with her. The walls seemed to close in on her and she shuddered, cringing away from them. "Is anyone there?"

"Is anyone there?" a low husky voice mimicked from behind her. If it hadn't sounded so different from her hesitant question she might have thought it an echo. "Macha, you told me she was smart."

"She is dearest Badb," a high clear voice replied, "She just hasn't pieced everything together quite yet." Hermione gasped as she recognized the third voice from the moments between being transported from the battle at Hogwarts in 1998 and Malfoy Manor in 1944.

"You!" Hermione whispered as she whirled around to see three figures standing in archways behind her, "Your voice… it was one of the ones…" She couldn't tell which woman had spoken, they were all silent, regarding her critically.

"Yes," the woman in the centre replied evenly. Her voice sounded too young to be coming from the crone-like woman standing there. Her hands were gnarled and curled into claws. Wrinkles radiated from every facet of her features and her hair was a steely grey that tumbled down her back in a snarled mess. " _Too much blood spilled…_ " Hermione shivered as the words hit her again and she remembered everyone who had died fighting _him_.

"You… you sent me back?" Hermione gasped. "To change what happened? But…"

The woman to the right shrugged. Her sleek black hair had been tied back in a strict bun and she held a helm under her left arm. She wore an elegantly detailed set of armor, complete with a black sword adorned with blood red rubies. "Mayhap," she said in her low husky voice and Hermione recognized her as being the first person who spoke, "Mayhap not."

"Badb," Macha scolded and turned to Hermione again, "Yes."

"Why?" Hermione snapped.

Macha raised an eyebrow and turned to Badb. "He spoke the truth in the end," Badb said reluctantly, "We were overzealous in our cull. Too much blood was lost."

"Your cull…" Hermione whispered in horror. Her mind raced, trying to figure out who these three women were. They spoke as if they controlled the tide of battle… as if they were beyond the scope of the wizarding war and merely there for fun. "Who are you?"

Macha shrugged, "We are often called the Morrigan. I am Macha, that is Badb, and Nemain."

"The Celtic goddess of war," Hermione gasped, "But you can't… gods and goddesses don't exist…"

Nemain cackled suddenly. It was the first sound she'd made and Hermione flinched away from the wild-looking woman. She looked very similar to Badb but her black her was teased out in a wild mane and her yellow eyes glowed with hunger. The sound of her laughter grated like nails along a chalkboard and cut through any composure Hermione might have had. It left her cowering on the cave floor, looking up at the triad goddess in terror.

"So you sent me back to change what happens?" Hermione stammered, "Why?"

"Because you embody us," Macha, the crone, said simply.

"Warrior," Badb grinned.

"Terror," Nemain breathed and the sound of her voice was so terrible that Hermione cringed away from the Morrigan.

"Power," Macha finished firmly, nodding as though it explained everything. Even if it didn't even begin to answer Hermione's questions.

"I don't understand," Hermione cried, "What do you expect me to do? Stop a war? Change Riddle? I'm pretty sure he's already on that path!"

Badb shook her head disparagingly at the girl. "Figure it out, mortal," she said coolly, "We've given you everything you need to succeed."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest as she watched first Badb and then Nemain retreat before she looked at Macha entreatingly. Macha merely smiled reassuringly before she followed her two sisters further into the cavern.

"Wait!" Hermione screamed, reaching after the Morrigan desperately. However, before she could reach their retreating forms she found herself back on the battlefield at Hogwarts. She ducked, cursing as a stray killing curse almost hit her and flung herself into the battle. As she shot spells off at Death Eaters and raced to find Harry and Ron, she noticed a carrion crow, a hooded crow, and a brown wolf watching her from the sidelines. It was the last thing she saw before she was hit by a stunner and fell into darkness once more.


	5. Easy or Hard, Dear?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...**

 **A/N: Hello lovelies! I would have posted Friday or even yesterday but (as it is oft wont to do...) life got in the way. It's just as well. We're starting to catch up to what I have pre-written and it's likely in a couple weeks there will be a longer gap between chapters. Just a warning. Anyway, as always, please enjoy (and follow/favorite/review).**

 **Love,**

 **flames**

* * *

 _The past always looks better than it was. It's only pleasant because it isn't here._

\- Finley Peter Dunne

Hermione woke with a gut-wrenching scream. A heavy weight slipped off her as she jerked to her feet and raised her wand. Her shoulders slumped as she took in Tom Riddle's bare sitting room. There was a startled cry from the bedroom and Riddle appeared in the doorway brandishing his wand threateningly and looking ruffled moments later. He shoved a few stray tendrils of black hair away from his forehead and lowered his wand as he took in the sight of Hermione's stiff posture and heaving shoulders.

Hermione turned to him, wand still drawn, and he raised his hands. Her eyes were clouded with sleep and confusion. Obviously she'd just waken from a nightmare… or something close. Hermione stared at him, her face white in the dim light, and suddenly doubled over with wracking sobs. Her wand slipped from her slackening fingers and fell the short distance to the floor. "No," she gasped, "No…"

For his part, Riddle stood there staring at her at a loss as to what to do with the witch crying on the floor of his sitting room. He'd returned to his rooms late the previous night to find her curled up uncomfortably on a chair facing the door. Probably to watch for him coming back. His back had ached just looking at her twisted position and, for some reason he'd felt sympathy for the witch displaced in time with no way back to it or her friends and family. So he'd gently (and uncharacteristically) wrapped a blanket around her shoulders before he'd gone to bed. Now, watching her sob wretchedly on the floor with that same blanket crumpled under her he felt something oddly akin to horror because he couldn't possibly think what path he could take that would create the brutalities that this young woman must have seen to have nightmares this bad.

Tom shook off the emotions and finally walked over to the witch and dragged her to her feet. "Stop," he hissed as he threw her into the chair, "You're embarrassing yourself."

Hermione flinched away from his touch and glared at him. "Fuck you," she hissed back, "It's your fault I'm here in the first place."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "Oh?" he purred, "How so?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut and flattened into a thin line as she shook her head. Tom laughed. "My dear," he said, "I thought we were past this." His hand ran over the back of the chair and paused on her healed shoulder. He tapped the healed wound lightly and she winced as she remembered the night before.

"I-I…" Hermione stuttered. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair painfully. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to contain her terror. Tom's hand lingered on her shoulder, rubbing the puckered skin that was the only remnant of the gash that he'd used to make her comply the night before.

"Hermione," Tom breathed into her ear, causing her to shudder, "I'm waiting."

Hermione's breath rasped out heavily. "I-I don't know," she whispered, "B-but my dream last night… I n-need to do more research… I don't even know if it's possible."

"What's possible?" Tom purred. Hermione flinched violently and he chuckled again. Her fear made him feel powerful and he reveled in the endorphins that rushed through his system.

"Do you believe in gods?" she asked, her fingers white with tension. His brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out how this had anything to do with her earlier accusation of his future self deliberately sending her here.

"I'm not religious," he snapped. Hermione relaxed slightly as he moved away but watched him warily out of the corner of her eye. "So no."

"Not God… but _gods_ ," Hermione clarified, "Like Mars… or Mercury… Pagan gods like the Romans, or the Greek… or the Celtic…"

Tom shook his head slightly, still not seeing the connection to his original question and the path her answer had taken. "I want to rule the world, Hermione," he murmured, "If that is the case, why would I believe in a power higher than myself?"

"I don't know," Hermione whispered, "I don't know…" She pressed herself further into the chair as he took a step toward her.

"Do you have a point here, dear?" Riddle pressed as he took another step toward her so he stood almost on top of her.

Hermione shook her head. "It was just something you said before I arrived here," she whispered. Tom eyed her suspiciously but let it slide for the moment. He had plenty of time to learn her secrets he reminded himself as he puzzled to himself a bit longer.

HGTR

Hermione relaxed slightly as Riddle moved away from her. She flinched as he turned around to survey her again but he only chuckled at the reaction. She could almost read the thoughts flitting behind his eyes, his curiosity unsated but with the full knowledge that he had all the time in the world to mine her for her secrets.

"Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time," Hermione said, spitting the words out at Tom Riddle. A part of her wanted to die repeating the words she'd told Harry in third year but she said it anyway. She needed to. A warning. _If you pillage me for secrets, you may regret it later._ She doubted he would though. He wasn't the sort of wizard that would be intimidated by her mild threat.

His eyes sparkled with mirth. "And not witches?" he asked with some amusement. She cringed away at the tone. She shook her head violently and he chuckled at her lack of a rebuttal. After a long moment of silence, just when she thought she would say something to fill the emptiness, Riddle spoke again.

"Perhaps," he murmured, unknowingly mirroring the words spoken in her dream the night before, "Or perhaps you were sent here to help change the future." Hermione flinched and felt a cold shiver make its way down her spine. A shiver that had nothing to do with the room temperature.

She gulped as he approached her again. Shuddered as he gestured for her to get up, and staggered to her feet as the leash tying her to him dragged her upright when she didn't move to obey him immediately. The force of the rope jerking on her caused her to lose her balance and she would have fallen to the floor if he hadn't caught her. She tried to recoil as he set her on her feet but his grip was firm enough that she couldn't draw away even if his spell would let her.

"We can have a long conversation about the laws surrounding time travel later," he murmured in her ear. She could feel his warm breath heating her neck and sending tingles down her spine. "But for now, it might be best if you dressed and accompanied me downstairs to breakfast. There are a number of people eager to meet you."

Hermione shuddered as she thought of who Tom might want her to meet. His Knights of Walburgis, aka the Death Eaters. Perhaps they weren't terrorizing the world yet but she still had no doubt that Tom Riddle's not-so-secret organization existed and was just waiting to reveal itself to the world. "No," she protested, "I-I don't want to meet your sick band of terrorists."

Tom raised his brows at her defiance. "You don't have a choice. You're alive at my pleasure and you will obey my whim."

"Kill me then," Hermione snapped as she raised her eyes to glare at him defiantly. She could see his surprise. Obviously, he hadn't expected her to be difficult anymore, since he had her effectively under his thumb with his stupid binding spell. She knew he wouldn't but she desperately wanted to try pushing him to the point where he would kill her. "You'll be giving me what I want."

Tom shook his head. "Come now," he breathed into her ear as his arms tightened around her to draw her closer to him, "You know I won't do that." Hermione didn't say anything. She just regarded him coolly until he began to look irritated with her. "You won't like what happens if you push me, Hermione," he warned her seriously, his jaw hard as he saw the stubborn set to her face.

"You can't break me," Hermione responded, "Your protégé wasn't able to make me tell her the truth under torture and she tried so very hard to." She pushed the sleeve of her pyjama top up to reveal the scar that marred her forearm. _Mudblood_ was scrawled in capital letters. The cuts had mostly healed but puckered and angry red scars remained, screaming her parentage to whomever it was bared to.

Tom pulled her arm toward him and she resisted the urge to try to pull it away. He examined the lettering as she examined his carefully blank expression. "Cursed blade?" he asked, glancing up at her for confirmation. She nodded. "Who?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed hard and Tom chuckled at her reaction. "You say you won't break but she still scares you. The place where she tortured you scares you and it has no way of harming you. I doubt she's even alive now. Am I right?"

Hermione nodded and averted her eyes, only to have Tom grip her chin harshly and twist her face to force her to look him in the eye. "You say you won't break," he repeated, "And I believe you. I believe you would let yourself be tortured into insanity before you broke, but you're not immune to the pain."

"I never said I was," Hermione whispered, tugging her arm out of his grip and sighing with relief as he let her take a step back, away from him.

"No," Tom said softly, "You didn't. But that isn't the only way to break a person." He let the words hang between them as Hermione took a deep shuddering breath.

"I suppose not," she replied as evenly as she could, "It's a good thing there's nothing in the past I care about then, isn't it?"

Tom merely smiled at her and her stomach twisted as she wondered what he'd thought of to make her break. No one she truly cared about existed yet. They wouldn't for years. He didn't say anything though and let her panic build up until he finally said, "Breakfast, love?"

She swallowed hard, considering her options. He'd been right the night before. This could be easy or hard. She wondered why it couldn't be easy just this once.


	6. Into the Snake Pit

**Disclaimer: We've already covered this. Nothing's changed since last week.**

 **A/N: An early post since I don't think I'll have time to post over the weekend or until later next week (other things to do and all that)... Next week's post might be early/late too since I'll be travelling home Friday for Thanksgiving. Anyway... Read, review, enjoy! I'll update again when I have time!**

 **Cheers,**

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* * *

 _If you battle monsters, you don't always become a monster. But you're not entirely human anymore, either._ \- Jonathan Maberry

Hermione swallowed as she adjusted the dress Abraxas Malfoy had procured for her. The one that somehow fit her perfectly although she was sure that he had only managed to get a glimpse of her the night before. Tom stayed her fidgeting fingers by taking her hand firmly and turning her so he could survey her critically. She averted her eyes during his inspection and only looked up as he adjusted her position so her hand rested on his arm and she stood bedside him.

"You look perfectly respectable," he murmured. Her leash tingled and twitched as he took a step forward and it drew her along with him. She swallowed hard as he waved his hand and the dining room door swept open to reveal a long table where several young men were already seated. There were only two chairs still empty. One at the head of the table and the other to its left. Tom swept her toward them and pulled the chair on the left out with a charming smile. She sat nervously, aware that all eyes were watching her carefully, many with considerable envy and distrust.

"Gentlemen," Tom smiled as he seated himself beside her. His hand grasped hers under the table firmly and she smiled tightly at him before she allowed herself to look around the table critically. Many of the faces she could see were carbon copies of the boys she would attend school with in fifty years or so, so while she did not know many of them on a first name basis she could guess their last names easily.

"My lord," voices murmured around the table. Hermione resisted the urge to cringe. Tom had warned her before he'd brought her down here.

" _My friends cannot see me being challenged," he'd murmured, circling her as he examined her appearance. "And it would be best if you didn't appear to be afraid of me either. Which means trying to restrain your reaction when I touch you." She'd agreed to accompany him down to breakfast and he'd procured a pale green silk dress that he'd said Abraxas had gotten for her. The sleeves fell loosely to her elbows and the bodice fit her snugly to her waist where it flared out into a full skirt that fell just past her knees. She felt sure that it only accentuated her undernourished body but Tom had made a noise of appreciation when she'd emerged from the bedroom after getting changed so she guessed that she didn't look too much like an underfed waif._

 _He'd waved his wand, hiding the slur on her forearm under a glamour and making her hair twist up in a simple up-do that would make her look the part of the privileged upper class woman. Hermione had flinched at the feel of his magic washing over her and refused to respond otherwise. His response was to grip her chin roughly and force her to look him. "Hermione, do you understand? You may challenge me all you want in private. Rage at me, throw objects… While I will not say I don't care if you do... I will not have to respond as harshly to such provocation in private as I would if you were to do the same in public."_

" _Your friends?" Hermione had scoffed, glaring at him in challenge._

 _Tom had laughed and released her chin. "Followers then," he'd amended. Hermione had remained silent, staring straight ahead. She remembered Bellatrix and tried to imagine how much worse it would be if he were the one on the other end of the wand. How much worse could he be compared to Bellatrix? When he'd made an impatient noise and reached for her again, she'd shrunken away and nodded._

" _Fine," she'd said, "No undermining you in public. Got it." Tom had smiled that predatory smile and held out his arm which she'd taken with serious misgivings but no way to back out anymore._

Hermione was drawn out of her thoughts as Tom extricated his hand from hers and placed it on her shoulder in a gesture meant to appear tender but felt oppressively possessive. He was marking his territory. "May I introduce you to my lovely fiancé, Hermione," he murmured.

Whispers exploded around the table at his announcement and Hermione schooled her features so she didn't reveal her surprise. Her hands clenched into claws at her sides though and she wondered when he had decided that this would be her cover. It was almost ingenious in how it explained her presence in his rooms and allowed him to keep her within arms reach. He was tying her as closely to him as he could. As if she wasn't already dependant on him for protection with that blasted binding he'd cast that wouldn't let her leave his side.

Fiancé to the rising Dark Lord. She wondered how he would explain her parentage. She wondered what Harry and Ron would say if they knew. She felt tears prickle at the back of her eyelids at the thought and fought to contain the turmoil of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She noticed Tom watching her carefully out of the corner of her eye and she lifted her chin haughtily as she surveyed the room again. With a slight nod, he carefully introduced her to the men seated at the table.

Most of the names were familiar: Theo Nott's father, Thoros, both Crabbe and Goyle's grandfathers, Pansy Parkinson's grandfather. She stiffened slightly as Tom introduced her to Antonin Dolohov and her hand fluttered in her lap as she remembered the battle in the department of mysteries in fifth year, itching to rub the faint purple scar that slashed between her breasts but knowing that any such action would give away her discomfort. Tom noticed her reaction and his eyes narrowed at her but he continued making introductions as though nothing had happened.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," she murmured when Tom fell silent, although she was sure it was anything but, and the whispers stopped immediately as the other men at the table re-appraised her. Tom smiled secretly at her and she felt herself relax with his approval of her act and then immediately felt sickened by the fact that she'd found comfort in the future Dark Lord's approval.

"Enough," Tom snapped after he'd had enough of the whispers, "We've wasted enough time already. Let's eat." Hermione watched as everyone tucked into the food that appeared before them. She was struck by how eerily familiar it was to be sitting at a long table filled with young men eating. An image of the Weasley family and Harry gathered around a battered table laughing and joking with each other fixed itself in her mind's eye. She shook it off before tears could overwhelm her because these weren't her friends. These were the men who would try to kill her and her friends if they knew who and what she was. They were the predecessors of the men who would try to kill her and her friends.

Hermione swallowed tightly as she stared at her plate. She couldn't bring herself to eat because she felt sick to her stomach. She knew who these men were, who they'd become and she couldn't imagine ever sitting and having a civil meal with any of them let alone all of them. She jolted as the one she feared the most brushed her shoulder lightly and leaned toward her.

"Aren't you hungry, love?" Tom murmured. To anyone else at the table it would appear as though he were concerned for his fiancé's health and appetite. In reality, it was a warning. She was to behave in the presence of his friends. If she appeared the part of the loving and doting fiancé he wouldn't have to hurt her in front of them.

She swallowed again and met his blue eyes with her own. "Not especially," she mumbled demurely, "The journey here was so very difficult and I find I'm more tired than hungry." And slightly nauseous, she thought as she maintained eye contact with him. She knew he knew what she was thinking and she could see the cogs beginning to work in his head before he nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"Still," he persisted, "Try to eat something. It will make you feel better." Silently, she nodded and picked up her fork to eat a few bites of egg and toast.

She was grateful for the distraction when Abraxas Malfoy, to her right, leaned closer to speak quietly to her. "I hope your journey here was pleasant, cousin," he said in a low voice. She managed not to turn to him in surprise but raised an enquiring brow at him which he answered by nodding slightly in Tom's direction. She glanced at Tom from the corner of her eye, unsurprised that he would have already come up with a backstory for her family background.

"Yes," she murmured, "Although your invitation was unexpected."

"The least I could do for the daughter of my father's deceased cousin," Abraxas deflected, smiling slightly at her, "My condolences…"

"Yes… well…" Hermione swallowed around the lump in her throat. Tying her to him indeed. The cousin was likely made-up and a bastard or perhaps a squib that Abraxas would now claim for the sake of Tom's obsession with her.

"If there is anything I can do to make your stay here more pleasant…" Abraxas said, watching her carefully.

Burn the bloody manor down, Hermione thought even as she plastered a passably authentic smile on her face and thanked Abraxas graciously. "I will, thank you. It's been…" Here she paused searching for a word that wouldn't blatantly scream _lie_ to everyone seated at the table pretending not to eavesdrop, "… difficult… since mother died. I'm so grateful you offered to take me in and introduced me to Tom."

Tom reached over and squeezed her hand and she saw a pleased smile flicker across his face before it returned to a stoically neutral expression again. She glanced at Tom for a longer moment, gauging his mood, wondering if he would object if she asked to visit the library. She desperately needed to look up the Morrigan and the effects of combining a killing curse and a deflection spell and ways to return to her own time… Although she was certain that Tom would never allow the last to happen but if she managed to get away from his watchful eye for long enough she could still _try_.

"Actually…" she murmured, "Tom has been raving about your library. We apparently share a love for obscure old magic. I would love to look through your collection." Abraxas swallowed uncomfortably and they both looked at Tom for his reaction. Tom fixed Hermione with a long look of appraisal, seemed to sense her interest stemmed from more than just a desire to escape, and finally shrugged.

"So long as someone is with you at all times," Tom murmured, "Some of the books in there are… unsavoury… and we wouldn't want you to come to any harm." In other words, to make sure she wasn't researching anything he didn't want her to be. Like a way home or a counter for the binding he'd used on her.

"We could visit the library after breakfast then," Abraxas offered and Hermione smiled winningly at her 'cousin' and 'fiancé' in thanks before she turned her attention back to her breakfast.


	7. Fruitless Fact-Finding

**Disclaimer: Not mine. As always.**

 **A/N: A longer chapter this week. Early by a few days too but I'm hoping this will tide you all over until next week since I don't anticipate updating until next week on Thursday or Friday. Really sorry… I'm booked solid tomorrow between proctoring midterms, attending my weekly grad seminar and packing to go home, and I'll be driving home for Thanksgiving on Friday to see my parents and my friends and my horse and… it's going to be insane enough without posting a new chapter here as well. Don't worry though, another chapter will be posted on schedule next week (Friday... since I seem to post on Friday more often than not).**

 **As always, read, review and enjoy!**

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* * *

 _The prisoner is not the one who has committed a crime, but the one who clings to his crime and lives it over and over._ – Henry Miller

Hermione groaned as she let her forehead collapse to the table in front of her. She'd been poring over old manuscripts for hours and only found the barest traces of any reference to the Morrigan, Badb, Macha, or Nemain. Her search for the effects of spells combining in unexpected ways was going about as well. She hadn't quite dared to search for a ritual or spell or potion that might deliver her back to her own time because she was sure Abraxas had been left with strict instructions to watch what she was reading carefully. She was sure that if she'd managed to work up the nerve to look though that it wouldn't be going very well either though.

Tom had escorted her here after breakfast with Abraxas and left her at the door. "I expect to hear about any interesting finds," he'd murmured in her ear before he'd disappeared to lord over his followers, leaving her in Abraxas' quiet company.

"Maybe I could help?" Abraxas asked tentatively from the chair he'd curled up in upon their arrival. She'd discovered, much to her surprise, that she liked Abraxas Malfoy. He carried himself with the air of someone who'd been brought up to believe he was better than anyone else but the arrogance that had always exuded from his grandson was absent in his bearing. As a result, Hermione found it to be much more tolerable to interact with him than she ever had with Draco.

Hermione sighed and straightened in her seat again to look over at the blonde man who was looking at her anxiously. "I-I don't know…" she whispered. She swallowed hard and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. "And I'm afraid if I don't find something…" She trailed off as the tears threatened to overwhelm her. Tom's warnings and threats rang in her ears. He knew she was unlikely to break under torture but he'd already insinuated that there were other ways for him to extract the information he wanted from her and she was frightened enough that she didn't want to find out what they were. But she didn't have the answers for once in her life and she was terrified to know them because he would just mine her for them.

"Hey," Abraxas looked alarmed as he watched her mask crack, "It's ok. Tom's not a tyrant. He won't hurt you…"

Hermione barked a harsh laugh and fixed him with a serious expression. "Are you sure about that?" she asked harshly and Abraxas blanched.

"He didn't…" he started to say and she shook her head in answer to his hesitant half question.

"No," she responded, "But I am perfectly aware of his nature and reputation."

Abraxas swallowed hard and stared at her as though he'd only just noticed her. "Well…" he said, "That makes things easier."

"It does, doesn't it?" she responded bitterly, rubbing the glamoured slur on her arm anxiously as she remembered her treatment at the hands of his followers.

"He admires you," Abraxas said after a long moment of silence while she glared balefully at the books that had let her down for the first time in her life, "I've never seen him so careful around anyone. It's almost like he wants you to like him."

Hermione's eyes slid shut as she let his words sink in. "I don't believe that," she said in a shaky voice, "I don't believe Tom Riddle could admire or care for anyone who is not himself." Her fingers clenched the edge of her table tightly, her knuckles turning white with the tension.

Abraxas took her hand, rubbing tension out of the claws her fingers had turned into, and lifted her chin so she made eye contact with him. She shivered as she was struck again by just how identical Draco was to his grandfather. "Hermione," he said seriously, "I've known Tom for a long time and I have never seen him step so carefully around someone he wanted information from. Whatever it is he wants from you, he wants to see you whole at the end of it. He values you, which is his own way of caring… If he didn't he would have ripped whatever information he wanted from you last night and killed you."

Hermione shuddered and jerked away from Abraxas. Her arms curled around her stomach and tears leaked from under her closed eyelids as the emotions which had been building all morning tore themselves loose from the chains she'd locked them in. A single sob lurched from her stomach and she rocked as everything hit her at once.

Harry… Ron… Her parents… All in the future, lost to her perhaps forever. Tom's obsession with her… Abraxas had just hit home the exact conclusions she'd been putting off making. If Tom had just wanted her knowledge of the future, he would have ravished her for her memories and left her in a gibbering mess before killing her. But he saw something of value in her as a person… a tool… and so he was trying to win her over first.

She didn't want to be won over. She just wanted to go home.

HG*TR

Abraxas watched in horror as the girl who'd appeared so unexpectedly in his sitting room the night before crumbled. He'd been amazed at the show she'd managed to put on for Tom earlier. He didn't know where she was from or how she'd gotten here but he was sure Tom hadn't informed her of his plans when he'd dragged her into the dining room that morning and announced her to his friends as his fiancé. In fact, if Abraxas hadn't been watching her so carefully for her reaction he might not have noticed her quickly covered surprise as Tom introduced her.

Her reactions to people around the table had been interesting as well. She'd appeared perfectly neutral and pleasant but beneath her mask she'd obviously recognized people – including himself – and he was sure none of Tom's Knights had ever met her. Her most violent reaction, and it hadn't been very, had been with Dolohov, whom she'd regarded with something akin to well-hidden contempt and fear.

He had his suspicions about her sudden appearance but he wouldn't voice them unless Tom invited him to. Tom had killed people for knowing too much before and he had no interest in becoming the next one. A loud sob drew him out of his thoughts and returned his attention to the distraught witch before him.

Unsure of how to react to the crying girl in front of him, Abraxas wrung his hands. Tom was known to be extremely possessive of his possessions and Hermione fell too close to that category for comfort so he wasn't sure he had permission to comfort her or whether he should call for Tom so he could do so himself. As she seemed to crumple even more, he came to a decision. He called for a house-elf to summon Tom and then awkwardly patted the witch's shoulder.

"Hermione…" he murmured, "Hey. It's going to be ok."

"N-no," she gasped, doubling over and crying harder. Abraxas cringed and looked toward the library door anxiously. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door burst open and Tom strode in looking annoyed. He cringed a bit again at the look on Tom's face but shrugged, not knowing what else he could have done.

Tom stopped dead at the sight of the witch sobbing her heart out at the desk. He turned to Abraxas, his face a mask of fury. "What happened?" he hissed taking a threatening step toward Abraxas who raised his hands defensively.

HG*TR

Tom regarded Abraxas with fury. He could not believe that Abraxas had managed to screw up his duties in less than 3 hours. "N-nothing," Abraxas stammered like the coward he was, "She seemed upset so I asked if I could help… and when I tried to reassure her, she completely fell apart."

Realizing this wasn't exactly Abraxas' fault as Hermione was a rather reluctant guest, Tom reined in his urge to lash out and turned his attention to Hermione. "Hermione," Tom said, his voice cutting through her tears.

She seemed to stiffen as she felt Tom's presence in the room. She choked back her sobs as she fought to regain composure and Tom felt himself soften slightly at her effort to pull herself out of it. He knew she felt overwhelmed. She'd been flung into the past without any of her friends or family, straight into the arms of her enemy. She was unbalanced and unsure and it benefited him greatly because it meant she would reveal more to him than she would if she could collect herself. However, this hysteria merely made her incoherent and he needed her to snap out of it so she could be useful.

She sucked in a deep breath and managed to pull herself into an almost upright position. Her head hung dejectedly over her knees and her arms remained wrapped around her waist. "Yes Tom?" she managed to choke out.

"Pull yourself together." His tone was harsh. He didn't do comfort. He didn't particularly want to feel sympathy for her but he did for some reason. He grimaced as he took a deliberate step forward and moved so he was behind her chair. He trailed his fingers across her shoulder lightly and felt her tremble under the touch. He knew it was disgust and fear but he couldn't help wishing it was something else too.

She shuddered but nodded slightly. "Tell me about this morning. You said it was my fault you were here. Why?" Tom said, deciding that now was as good a time as any to get back to their interrogation.

He glanced at Abraxas who was standing by the door looking uncomfortable. He'd almost forgotten about Abraxas' presence but it suited his purposes for him to be there as well. He didn't want Hermione's origins to be known by any except himself and Hermione, but it was inevitable that anyone he set to watch her would learn more about her than he wanted. And Abraxas was perfect for that station since he was already positioned to gain from the deception as Hermione's adopted cousin.

Hermione drew in a deep breath and was silent for a long moment. Tom was just opening his mouth to prompt her when she answered him, her voice thick with suppressed tears. "You won't believe me."

"Try me," Tom said. Hermione glanced at Abraxas and back at him. Tom shrugged and waved Abraxas further into the room.

"Abraxas," Tom murmured, "My fiancé is concerned about your presence in the room while I question her. As her cousin, you wouldn't reveal any of her secrets or mine without permission, would you?"

"Of course not, my lord," Abraxas replied, bowing his head. "It is an honour to be trusted…"

"Yes, yes," Tom cut him off, looking at Hermione again, "See dear, you have your confidante."

"It's silly," Hermione insisted, "I have nothing to back up my suspicions. Just a dream, which I'm only considering because Harry's dreams were sometimes true and I have a gut feeling that I shouldn't ignore it, ok?" Her eyes flashed defiantly as she met Tom's eyes.

"Not especially," Tom murmured, "I thought we agreed you would be upfront with me now."

Hermione shook her head, her eyes flashing, and Tom wanted to laugh because she looked so appealing angry like that. "No," she hissed, "I agreed to defer to your wishes in the presence of your friends. They aren't here right now."

"Abraxas is," Tom murmured and watched with delight as her hair crackled with her fury. It was so much better than the wallowing despair he'd just hauled her out of.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up angrily. She looked ready to spit fire at him and it was completely diverting to see her transform into this bristling lioness. "And you just waived that condition when you insinuated said he was or will be aware of my origin. He's to be my babysitter, isn't he? And if he is, it's highly unlikely he'll be oblivious to the fact that I'm from the future. He's not an idiot. In fact, if he's anything like his grandson I expect…" She paused and shot a glance at Abraxas who was looking upon the proceedings anxiously. Her eyes narrowed and she addressed him directly. "You'd already pieced parts of it together yourself, hadn't you?"

Abraxas jolted uncomfortably as he found himself under both their scrutiny. He gulped and looked at Tom, who raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Well," Tom asked. He fully expected Abraxas had figured out parts of the truth because, as Hermione had said, he wasn't an idiot. A coward, yes, but never an idiot.

Abraxas gulped again. "Well… yes… I had my suspicions that Hermione had come from the future… Her clothes were outlandish and, frankly, unacceptable for a lady…" At Hermione's hiss of outrage, he turned to her and raised his hands defensively. "I'm sorry but they were. No woman of stature would wear pants and a jumper!"

Tom cleared his throat and Abraxas continued hastily, "And of course you don't speak properly…" He rushed to defend himself again as Hermione's hand twitched toward her wand lying on the desktop. "It's not a grammar thing… Just the slang you used and how you structured a few sentences. Barely noticeable really." Tom suppressed a chuckle at Abraxas' expense while Hermione glared at him.

"You were the one who said he wasn't an idiot dear," he reminded her.

"And of course there was the reaction she had when she appeared in the living room and realized who you were, Tom," Abraxas continued, "She seemed to know us and of course none of us had ever met her so either she met us in disguise – although that didn't explain her hostile reaction – or she knew you in the future when you set your plans in motion… Which is of course why you placed so much value on her that you wanted me to legitimize her by posing as a cousin and setting her up as your fiancé."

Tom laughed in delight and clapped his hands together. "I see your point, love," he said, glancing at Hermione and smiling at her, "It does seem pointless to pretend to be a happy couple around your cousin. I suppose you would prefer if I returned to veiled threats and intimidation as means to loosen your tongue. Do you wish to learn how I plan to break you if you continue to refuse to divulge information to me?"

Hermione deflated abruptly and sank back into her chair. The change was astounding. A lioness one moment and a mouse the next. Tom found himself wishing to provoke her back into a frothing fury, if only to see that dauntless side of her again, but refrained. "Not especially," she whispered.

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 **A/N: Happy (early) Canadian Thanksgiving everyone! Sending love,**

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	8. Magical Missteps

**Disclaimer: As usual, not mine. Just thought I'd remind y'all.**

 **A/N: I know I said Friday but I'm currently stuck at my desk writing and abstract for a conference in January and... I'm bored. So... Another update. Thanks again for all the support. I'm a little disbelieving of the number of people following this and that makes me anxious because I don't want to disappoint. I'm trying to stick to my update schedule. As I write this I have another two chapters written and ready to go but one is very short so you may see an update midweek for that one. And I'm working on Ch11 (Hermione finally cooperated and let me move the plot forward a bit!).**

 **Also: I'm posting a "deleted scene" in a separate fic (The Morrigan's Curse: Deleted Scenes) that details Abraxas' thought process as he figures out Hermione is from the future in Ch.7. I didn't include it because the scene had already been written from Hermione's POV and Abraxas' thought process was not as critical to moving the story forward. Check it out if you're interested...**

 **To all that have followed/favorited/reviewed: Thank you.**

 **Love,**

 **flames**

* * *

 _The truth is this,_

 _every monster_

 _you have met_

 _or will ever meet,_

 _was once a human being_

 _with a soul_

 _that was as soft_

 _and light_

 _as silk._

 _Someone stole_

 _that silk from their soul_

 _and turned them_

 _into this._

 _So when you see_

 _a monster next_

 _always remember this._

 _Do not fear_

 _the thing before you._

 _Fear the thing_

 _that created it_

 _instead._

\- _The Truth About Monsters_ , Nikita Gill

"Then don't test me, Hermione," Tom snapped. Hermione stared at the grain of the wood on the table sullenly. How could she not _test_ him? No, she didn't want to be hurt. She didn't want him to _break_ her, but he expected her to take this lying down? Who did he think she was? She was Hermione Granger and she had a backbone, dammit.

Tom huffed, running his fingers through his hair in irritation. "Hermione?" he snarled.

"Oh go to hell," Hermione snapped, glaring at him, "You may currently be my keeper but we've already established that I won't just let you order me around, despite my fear of you and your band of terrorists."

"They're not terrorists," Tom said.

Hermione smiled coldly at him. "They will be. And you'll be the monster that'll twist them until their morals are gone. And then you'll set them on the world and let it burn. You asked me why I fear you earlier. It's because you are the monster that created all the others I've had to face. And if I knew what twisted you into the monster you'll become, I'd fear it more and pity you."

She felt rather than saw Tom slap her across the face. Her cheek stung as she raised a hand to what was surely tender red skin that felt like it would bruise, and stared at Tom in disbelief. He stood in front of her, breathing hard. His hand clenched tightly into a fist, white skin appearing between the knuckles. "No. One. Pities. Me," he ground out.

"I do," she said simply and shrank back as he flew into a rage. Books clattered off the shelves around them in a cyclone of wind and paper. Her skin stung as loose pages whipped past her, giving her hundreds of paper cuts. A chair lifted up and flew at her and she screamed as she raised her hands to ward it off. She fell to the ground to avoid it and tried to cower unsuccessfully on the ground to avoid the debris. He was targeting her, she knew. _Unstable,_ Harry's voice whispered in her mind, echoing what Dumbledore had told him, _Always the poor kid, always the one no one wanted. Forever pitied. He wants to rule because it means he can't be inconsequential anymore._

"Tom!" Abraxas' voice cut through the noise of pages ripping and wind abruptly. Urgently. Hermione cowered where she sat, unable to move for fear of being wacked by a book or something larger. "Calm yourself."

She could suddenly understand where Tom Riddle started to morph into Voldemort. Why he'd turned to the Dark Arts. He'd never been given anything in his life. Denied his mother's love, abandoned by his father, forever inferior to his classmates because of his poverty… He'd had to fight for every inch of respect he'd earned at Hogwarts, the only way he knew how – through fear and power. She wondered why Abraxas was so calm and realised he was outside of the cyclone of papers. Shielded from it.

"She—" Tom started to say, still enraged, still wanting to punish her.

"Knows nothing," Abraxas cut him off, shooting a dark look at Hermione cowering on the floor. "You're destroying my library. Control yourself."

Tom heaved a deep breath of air and the ruined furniture and books fell to the ground. Hermione hid her face, hiding a sob. She had a hunch Tom wouldn't be feeling charitable toward her distress right now and she didn't want to draw his attention again so soon after angering him. She didn't look up as she heard footsteps retreating from her. She flinched as the door to the library slammed shut behind Tom as he left, wondering if she'd managed to scare off his interest in the future.

She remained on the floor until Abraxas walked over and hauled her to her feet. "That was a fucking idiotic thing to say," he snarled, "You managed to uncover every single one of his fucking insecurities in one breath."

"Why the fuck do you care?" she hurled back, shoving him away from her. Since it wasn't Tom, her leash didn't prevent her escape attempts, although Abraxas held firm and refused to let her go. "You're not the one he'll kill if I anger him."

"I might be," Abraxas said. His fingers dug into her forearms and she squirmed, trying to put distance between him and her. "He wants you. He's not going to dispose of you until he gets what he wants from you."

"He's not going to fucking get what he wants from me," Hermione spat, "I'd die first."

Abraxas laughed, actually laughed and Hermione scowled at him. He didn't know who the hell she was, or what she was capable of. He couldn't laugh at her! "I can assure you," Abraxas said, leaning down so she could feel his breath against her neck, "What Tom wants, Tom gets. I'd be very, very afraid if I were you because any inclination he had to be gentler than normal fled just now."

Hermione felt herself shiver at the warning implicit in Abraxas' tone. She knew Tom Riddle was dangerous. She knew she shouldn't cross him. She knew and she had anyway. It was just… the Tom Riddle here was different from the one in the future… Still… How could she forget that the Dark Lord she knew would develop from the Tom Riddle she was getting to know? Her eyes squeezed shut in horror. She was such an idiot.

"Bloody hell," she whispered, falling limp in Abraxas' arms as these realizations came to her, "How do I fix this?"

"Figure it out," Abraxas responded curtly, "Tom assures me you're bright." She nodded slightly, and sagged into a chair as he released her. Ignoring her, Abraxas waved his wand to begin repairing the damage Tom's bout of accidental magic had produced while Hermione began to salvage the books she'd been referring to earlier.

She brushed debris off the cover of the last title ( _Divine Beings: Do Gods and Goddesses Exist?_ ), stacked it with the other volumes on the repaired desk and grimaced at them. She sighed and sat down again as Abraxas settled himself to watch her in an armchair nearby. Half an hour passed in near silence, the exceptions being the occasional creak of Abraxas' chair as he readjusted his position and the soft rustle of turning pages.

Hermione tried to concentrate but the words on the pages wouldn't sit still for her. All she could see was Tom's face in her mind. The anger contorting his mouth into a scowl, the hard set to his jaw, narrowed eyes. She'd never seen anyone so volatilely angry… and vulnerable… Because she'd seen the vulnerability and fear hiding behind his anger. He was scared that she knew his weaknesses. His expression spun circles in her mind and she couldn't understand why she felt compassion for him. Why she felt she could understand him a little better and empathize with him a bit… Hadn't she always had to be better, just to defend her birth to everyone else? Wasn't that slightly similar to Tom? Did he feel the same need to prove himself? Finally, Hermione had had enough and she slammed her current book shut, causing Abraxas to jump slightly.

"Does your offer of help still stand or are you angry at me too?" she snapped as Abraxas looked at her in surprise.

"I—" Abraxas started to say but stopped shaking his head.

"Watch me die then," Hermione snapped, "Because without your knowledge of this library I'm never going to figure this out."

"Fine!" Abraxas snapped back, "What do you need?"

"Anything on the Morrigan," Hermione said.

"The goddess?" Abraxas asked incredulously, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Hermione shook her head. "I keep telling Tom. It's silly. I… I just need to know. Please Abraxas? I'll explain as soon as anything comes of it, I promise… well after I explain to Tom…"

Abraxas sighed and rubbed his temples. "No," he said, "I'll help. But you have to explain now."

Hermione swallowed around the lump that formed in her throat. She needed his help. The Malfoy's library was beautiful and vast, but not organized in any logical way she could discern. Without Abraxas' help, she was lost. "I had a dream," she whispered. She slowly bit out the details. Torturously slowly because she half-believed it was ridiculous. Except Harry's dreams had always had a grain of truth imbedded in them, and while she was convinced that was due to the piece of soul she suspected had latched onto Harry when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby, she also didn't have anything else to go off of at the moment and she needed _something._

* * *

 **A/N: I'll make you all a deal. Eight reviews (one for each chapter I've written and posted so far - that would bring the total to 28 reviews) and I'll post Ch9 early (Monday or as soon as I see eight new reviews). And if I don't get eight reviews by Monday… well, I may just post early anyway but it's not guaranteed.**

 **A/N2: I'm trying to start responding to reviewers. It helps if you give me something to respond to (something you liked, something that you didn't, positive criticism, a question…) but I will try to respond even with just a thank you if you review now. Remember though – even if I don't respond, your review makes my day, so thank you.**

 **Thank you to the guest reviewer who wished me a happy thanksgiving. It was a lovely weekend with my parents and visiting the local fall fair and friends.**

 **You'll be hearing from me again soon,**

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	9. Just Breathe

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

 **A/N: Hello beauties! Your reward for reviewing, as promised.**

 **Read, review, enjoy!**

 **flames**

 _There are very few monsters that warrant the fear we have of them._ \- Andre Gide

Tom paced the bedroom. His hands dragged themselves through his hair, tugging on knots in the silky locks harshly. He needed to get a hold on himself. He couldn't have anyone – most of all his friends – seeing him on the verge of losing control like this. He had an image to uphold if he wanted to rise to power like he planned. He hissed and slammed a fist into the wall as an image of Hermione's defiant face wavered in his mind's eye.

" _You'll be the monster that'll twist them until their morals are gone. And then you'll set them on the world and let it burn. You asked me why I fear you earlier. It's because you are the monster that created all the others I've had to face. And if I knew what twisted you into the monster you'll become, I'd fear it more and pity you."_

Pity. He'd been fucking pitied his entire life. _Such a shame his mother died giving birth to him… Such a pity the little orphan boy was sorted into Slytherin. Nothing will come to him. He doesn't have the influence… the power… to do anything._ Tom screamed wordlessly and pummelled the wall angrily. How dare she pity him? He'd proven to all of them he was more powerful. Better. His voice broke and he sank down the wall breathing heavily.

The more he learned about what he would become, the less he wanted to become that person. A monster, she'd said coolly, calm as can be. A statement of fact. It was inevitable she was saying. Except none of it had happened yet.

He swore under his breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as he fought for control. He needed to be in control. He hissed as his temper began to get away from him again and closed his eyes, slowly counting down from one hundred.

 _100… 99… 98_ …

Hermione's opinions of him had been preconceived. Before she'd met him… or rather, before a freak accident had slingshot her through time and space.

 _86… 85… 84…_

But her judgement of him was based on events that had not happened yet, that possibly would never happen now that she was here in the past. Her presence here had changed the future.

 _71… 70… 69…_

He was NOT a monster, god damn it! His breathing hitched again.

 _55… 54… 53_ …

He wrestled with his thoughts about Hermione, trying to remove them so he could calm down. It was just… hard. He'd never met her. He wasn't the person she knew. And for some reason he wanted to prove that to her.

 _22… 21… 20…_

Except she was too scared to see it. Too scared and self-righteous to look closely enough to realize that her conclusions were falsely based.

 _10… 9… 8…_

Tom drew in a deep breath as he finally got his temper under control. He'd seen Hermione's face when he'd lost control. The terror that had stretched it out of its normal parameters into something else. She'd tried to hide it but she didn't have enough practice hiding strong emotions yet and he was too good at reading others to miss anything but the slightest of cues.

3… 2… 1…

* * *

 **A/N: Hope everyone liked that little insight into Tom's head. Next update is _next_ Friday as usual.**

 **A/N2: To my Guest reviewers:**

 **Guest Review#1: I'm so happy I could make your day a bit brighter. I completely know that feeling when a crappy day gets just a bit better because there's a new chapter from a fanfic waiting in your inbox... It makes me happy to know I could do that for you. I hope this makes your day a bit brighter again!**

 **Guest Review#2: No, Tom really had nothing as a child. I'm having fun exploring his vulnerable side (as you may of guessed from this chapter). It can be a bit hard to find the balance between the mask he's cultivated and the vulnerability beneath it but I _hope_ I'm finding it.**

 **luv1711: I find Tomione a bit of an odd pairing but after I tried reading a couple I did fall in love a bit, thus this...**

 **Guest Review#3: I'm happy you enjoy it. I enjoy writing it and posting it for others. It's one of the joys of this site.**

 **Thank you everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed!**

 **Til next time,**

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	10. Shadows in the Library

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. The legend of Cú Chulainn also does not belong to me and I shamelessly tweaked it to suit my (and Hermione's) purposes using various internet sources (such as Wikipedia) to help inform me.**

 **A/N: Heh. This one got away with me a bit. A day early but I'm sure you're not complaining. Read/review and enjoy!**

* * *

 _We are not haunted by the dead._

 _We are haunted by the living_

 _And the graveyard of memories_

 _They leave in our heads._

\- Nikita Gill

The next week passed slowly. Tom was avoiding her, which suited Hermione perfectly. She didn't particularly want to associate with him, knowing everything she did about what he would become, and Tom apparently didn't want to associate with her after her admission of pitying him either.

He'd moved her to a room in Abraxas' wing of the Manor under the pretense of propriety but neither she nor Abraxas was deceived by the excuse. He only wanted to distance himself from her. But… truthfully, the distance was making her nervous. Abraxas had made a good point. Tom wanted something from her. He wanted her knowledge of the future but that didn't explain why he hadn't just pillaged her mind for her secrets and then killed her. There were so many other ways of extracting the information: Veritaserum, Legimancy, torture…

So rather than think about what else Tom might want from her, she'd thrown herself into research, hoping that she could find something to explain why she was here and bracing herself against whatever unpleasantness would surely unfold when Tom finally approached her again. Abraxas spent whatever time she didn't spend holed up in her rooms with her, and she found she didn't mind having a keeper so much especially since Abraxas was fairly good company. He had a sharp, dry wit and a quick tongue, much like his future grandson, but without the viciousness and arrogance that Draco had always exhibited.

So far, the only thing she and Abraxas had been able to uncover in their comprehensive sweep of the Malfoy library was a description of the Morrigan's powers and symbols in a book proclaiming itself to be a guide to the gods, which had confirmed some of the details of her dream – the members of the Triad, the forms they took, their obligation to maintain balance. Of course there was controversy on a number of those points… but, really, what did she expect when dealing with myths and legends and beings that had no business existing outside of bedtime stories and ghost stories around the campfire?

She sighed as she leaned her forehead against a shelf, staring at the list of titles Abraxas had handed her this morning before he'd muttered something about Tom needing him that morning and that he'd be back to escort her to lunch. Her stomach clenched at the thought.

She could handle most of Tom's Death Eaters, the exception being Dolohov, who as far as she could tell was intelligent, handsome… and cruel. She had no doubt that, even without Tom's influence, Dolohov would be charismatically immoral. She's seen him torture a stray tortoiseshell cat crossing his path the other morning and she'd had to dash to the washroom to throw up after watching the casual display of brutality to something as innocent as that poor cat. The worst part though, had been the smile he'd fixed on her afterward… the ingratiating anticipation within it… as though she should be _grateful_ for what he'd done… as though she _owed_ him a favour for it. Or perhaps that given half a chance, she'd be next.

She'd have to see Tom as well and her breath stuttered slightly at the thought of seeing Tom again after the… episode… last week. He hadn't said more than a few words to her since then, for all that she sat on his left with Abraxas on her other side. For all of his aloofness, his eyes never left her if she was in the same room as him though. He watched every single interaction of hers with his followers with sharp eyes, never missing a single nuanced expression. And every time she met his eyes she remembered what he'd looked like just after Abraxas had broken through his rage. The anger veiling vulnerability and hurt.

She squeezed her eyes shut trying to forget the vulnerability she'd witnessed in his eyes… that _hurt_. Voldemort didn't show weakness. He didn't have emotions. He certainly didn't have feelings that could be hurt. She hadn't hurt his feelings, had she? She tried to convince herself she hadn't but something deep in her gut twisted into uncertainty that she brushed off angrily remembering Harry's warning again. _Remember,_ his voice whispered through her mind, _He was an expert at manipulation. He'll slither his way into your soul and brainwash you until he controls your every thought. Doublespeak, Hermione._

Her breath rasped out in a huff. It was difficult being here and seeing who he'd been before his resurrection. The handsome, charming man with a sincere smile and intelligent comments. The man she hadn't seen lift a finger to hurt anything or anyone since the night she'd arrived. He hadn't even really hurt her that first night either and since then he'd done nothing. She wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to know if she could save him.

She sighed and focussed on her list again, shaking off any thoughts about Tom. Today she might just find something.

HG*TR

Abraxas frowned as he walked into the library and didn't immediately see Hermione curled up in one of the chairs reading or taking notes at a desk. She could still be in the stacks looking for the titles on the list he'd handed her that morning but that had been hours ago and she was almost as familiar with the library's organization system now as him.

"Hermione?" he called uncertainly. He knew she wasn't here willingly, that she wanted nothing to do with Tom or himself or any of the other men who visited the house regularly, but he thought he'd at least convinced her that not all of them were the violent bloody-thirsty monsters she thought they were. At any rate, she seemed to enjoy his company now rather than shy away from him as she had initially.

 _Crap_ , he thought when there was no immediate answer, _If she's somehow escaped Tom will skin me._ He strode into the rows of shelfs scanning for any sign of his missing charge and calling out again. He paused as he heard a low murmur of voices from one corner of the large space. He thought he recognized Hermione's voice raised in near panic and his blood ran cold.

 _Fuck_. He'd thought it would be alright to leave her alone for a few hours to finalize the papers that would legally make her his cousin since no one else in the Manor with the exception of Tom had any interest in the library. He had obviously been wrong. He followed the sound of Hermione's voice and growled as he recognized Antonin Dolohov's voice answering her.

"Sweetheart," his low voice rumbled, "I'd do more for you than Riddle ever could." Abraxas growled at the double meaning in his words. If Tom could hear Antonin's advances on the girl he'd claimed…

"Tom has been… very kind," Hermione's voice wavered uncertainly, as though she was trying to figure out how to extricate herself from the conversation. Abraxas paused as he came almost within sight of the two, wanting to see how the situation played out. "But… I'll keep your… offer… in mind if I have any problems down the line."

There was a low chuckle and a gasp that had Abraxas growling low in his throat sure that Antonin had made some ill-advised advance.

"Mr. Dolohov, could you please move?" Hermione said, "I need…" Her voice trailed off oddly and then snapped back into life. "Would you keep your hands to yourself?" she hissed and Abraxas burst around the corner of the last set of shelves to see Antonin with Hermione pressed up against the bookshelves. One hand was wrapped behind her pressing her lower back closer to him while the other reached for her breast. Hermione had a look of horror fixed on her face and her hands were braced against Antonin's chest, trying to pry him off of her.

"Hermione? Antonin?" Abraxas said, and she startled, looking at him wildly.

"Abraxas!" she exclaimed, an expression of pure relief and gratitude crossing her face briefly. Then she seemed to realize the compromising position she was in and managed to shove Antonin off of her while she flushed a deep horrified red. "This… this isn't what it looks like. Mr. Dolohov…"

"I keep telling you to call me Antonin," Dolohov purred, stalking toward Hermione again. She squeaked and flinched away from him. Abraxas growled and pulled her behind him as he glared at Antonin.

"Hermione relax," Abraxas reassured her as she began to babble explanations behind him, "I saw everything." She fell silent but he felt her clutch the back of his robes anxiously.

"Are you sure about that?" Antonin asked darkly, "Did you see the minx trying to seduce me?" Hermione's fingers dug into his back angrily but she mercifully remained silent, allowing Abraxas to deal with the crass idiot standing in his library.

"I saw," Abraxas said carefully, "something you should hope I don't report to our Lord. You know she's untouchable."

"Then he should keep his whore on a shorter leash," Antonin sneered, leering at Hermione, "And allow us to bring other entertainment onto the property." Hermione twitched behind Abraxas, obviously itching to respond but a stern glance from Abraxas silenced her.

"Watch what you say about my cousin, and our Lord's fiancé, Dolohov," Abraxas' voice was quiet and even, but held a dangerous edge. He pulled his wand from its holster on his belt, and toyed with it loosely in his hand, daring Antonin to make another lewd comment.

Antonin scoffed but watched the wand warily. "No matter," he shrugged, "Our Lord has promised me a taste as soon as he's finished with her anyway. I hope you're prepared to disown her again because—"

"I'd stop there if I were you," Abraxas said cutting him off with forced cheer, "I haven't disowned her yet, and I am rather fond of her at the moment. I wouldn't want to have to take offense to a careless comment meant in jest and have to defend her honour."

"No of course not," Antonin sneered, shoving his way past Abraxas and toward the Library's exit. "Your watchdog won't be on duty forever, sweetheart," he hissed as he passed Hermione, "Watch your back. You never know what's lurking in the shadows."

HG*TR

Hermione shuddered and collapsed against one of the bookshelves as she heard the library door slam shut. The skin on her lower back crawled where Dolohov had touched her and his warnings rang in her ears. She was barely aware of Abraxas calling to her as she gasped against the panic that gripped her. She didn't believe for a second that Tom was going to pass her on to Dolohov after she finally told him what she wanted. She knew him well enough to know that he didn't share his toys even after their novelty wore off. However, she also knew Dolohov's threat wasn't idle. Given half a chance he _would_ violate her in some way and somehow twist it so she was the one blamed for the transgression.

"Hermione." She jerked as Abraxas managed to break through her panicked haze and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You- you don't believe…" she stuttered and stiffened as he pulled her into a tight hug. Surprised, she let herself relax into the gesture, feeling protected for the first time since she'd arrived here. Tears burned her eyes as he pulled back and examined her carefully.

"Are you ok?" he demanded, "Because if he hurt you…"

She swallowed. "Y-yeah," she said shakily, "Just… unsettled. He… I…"

"He's a fucking bastard," Abraxas hissed as he glared at the door Dolohov had disappeared through, "Did he do anything else? Touch you in any way other than what I saw?"

"N-no," Hermione said as the adrenaline started to fade away and she was left feeling drained, tired, and scared, "He came in here about 15 minutes ago, looking for you and when he found out you'd left me here alone… he… he cornered me. You walked in just as…"

Abraxas nodded. "Good. Try not to be left alone with him again. I think I just made it worse and he's going to fixate on you now." She nodded and her hand fluttered over the scar on her chest. After a long moment of silence Abraxas shifted and pulled her to her feet. "Did…" he started hesitantly, "Did he ever do something to you? In the future?"

Hermione stiffened and pulled away as he grasped the hand that trembled over the scar Dolohov had given her in the Department of Mysteries. "There's history there, yes," she said finally, fixing her gaze on the ground, "They told me later I was lucky to survive. That the curse that hit me probably would have killed me if he hadn't had to cast it non-verbally."

"What—" Abraxas started to ask her but she shook her head and turned to walk back to the Library's study nook.

"Please… I don't want to talk about it right now," she whispered and was grateful when Abraxas fell silent and followed her out of the stacks.

"Right…" he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet uncomfortably, "How's the research coming today?"

Hermione sighed and gestured to the books spilling across her desk. "How does it look like it's going?" she rebutted and smiled as Abraxas laughed and sank into one of the arm chairs.

"Nothing yet?" he sighed and she shook her head, leaning against the edge of the desk and looking at him. "Have you considered that you might not…?"

Hermione's eyes slid closed as her shoulders tensed at the thought. " _Yes_ ," she grit out through clenched teeth, "I… Terrible things happen to witches and wizards who meddle with time. I don't want to… compromise anything that _has_ to happen."

"I think you need to plan for that eventuality, Hermione," Abraxas said, "Tom's patience is wearing thin, especially after what happened last week, and the longer you leave talking to him, the less pleasant he'll be."

"I _know_ ," Hermione ground out. She flinched under the critical look Abraxas fixed on her. She did know but she also knew the consequences of meddling with time. She'd spent a year going back an hour at a time to attend classes taking place at the same time using a Ministry-issued time-turner. And while she and Harry had gotten away with their (highly illegal) stunt with Sirius at the end of the year, there were so many things that could have gone unpleasantly wrong. "I do _know_. But… There has to be _something_ ," she finished brokenly.

Abraxas sighed. "Ok," he said, rubbing his face with his hand tiredly, "Ok. Just consider approaching him soon okay? I… I don't want to see you hurt."

Hermione felt a wave of gratitude for the blonde wizard who, against all reason, seemed to are about her. "I will. I promise," she said, softening, "If I don't find something before the end of the week I'll tell him… _something_. Ok?" Abraxas nodded and stood up. " _Thank_ you," she whispered and watched as he nodded again, a small smile flickering across his face.

"You're welcome," he said, "I have to go see Tom for a while… Will you be ok here on your own? I'll Ward the door so only you, Tom, or I can enter or exit."

Hermione smiled thinly, not happy that he was going to leave her here alone after being cornered by Dolohov but not wanting him to see her discomfort. "I'll be fine," she said, "I'll probably be in the stacks when you get back. I'm pretty well finished with these." She gestured to the stacks of books on the desk with a grimace. She thought he saw through her mask nonetheless, although he waved awkwardly and left the library hurriedly anyway with a final comment saying that she could find him and Tom in the study if she really needed either of them.

She sighed and looked at the stack of discarded books disparagingly for a moment before she waved her wand to send them back to their places on the shelves. Then she wandered over to the only section of the library she and Abraxas hadn't scoured.

She scanned the titles tiredly, not really expecting anything to turn up and stopped dead as she noticed a soft glow from the far corner. She approached the shelf warily and paused when she saw the small black journal resting there. As she reached it the glow vanished and she stared at the journal warily. It looked eerily like Riddle's diary and she was wary of touching something that might possess a piece of the darkest magic she knew of. She drew in a deep breath and started casting diagnostic and detection spells and her frown grew as she started to cast them for a second time: _nothing_. So what had made the slim volume light up?

Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the volume off the shelf carefully. As she held the journal gingerly in her hand, it grew warm and glowed softly again. She drew in a sharp breath and almost dropped it but caught herself in time. After a long moment of the journal not doing anything else, she gingerly flipped the small book open to the first page with trepidation and gasped as she read the inscription there.

 _This book is the property of Cannlos, son of Cú Chulainn._

 _Herein lies the story of Cú Chulainn and his consortium with Morrigu as relayed by his son Connla:_

Hermione flipped the page and scanned the first entry excitedly. Cú Chulainn was a known consort of the Morrigan. One in which the Morrigan had been scorned by Cú Chulainn and she retaliated by pitting against him in battle to kill him. This could be her answer! Proof that her dream of the Morrigan had some truth to it.

 _I am writing this as a cautionary tale to any who might draw the blessing of the Morrigan down upon them. In some ways it is a blessing – a chance to make the lives of those wronged by bloodshed and violence – and others a curse. It has been many years since I righted the wrongs of my father Cú Chalainn and despite causing my own death in the timeline much sooner, I am still here as the Morrigan waives the repercussions of making changes to the timeline. Although she says that what was changed was never meant to happen in the first place, and my act of righting the timeline places me outside of it so there is no paradox…_

 _I'm not sure that I will ever understand but I think it is important that people know of my father's folly and what it almost cost us all._

 _(-*-)_

 _Father killed me this morning. He killed me in the Battle of Muirthemne, battle lust on his face, and no regret. I saw the malicious glee, the lack of humanity marring his face this morning. I do not know when he lost the last bit of humanity. He represented justice and fairness at one point but he's been twisted and contorted into a monster that does not know humanity anymore._

 _Any kindness is gone, I saw that today as he shouted the incantation to kill me and a green bolt of light flashed toward me. If it hadn't been for mother's intervention – her attempt at deflecting the curse meant to kill me – I might have died then, but her deflection charm intercepted the killing curse and turned the two streams of light an icy blue._

 _When the bolt of light hit me it seemed to explode outward in a crackling ball of blue lighting. My hair stood on end and I heard my mother scream my name before the world imploded inward and everything went dark. In the darkness, I heard the words my father last spoke to me: "By my blood I have become undone." It was his voice and one other, a woman with a clear high voice. In the ensuing silence, the world exploded outward again and I slammed into the ground._

 _When I looked around I found myself in a cave with the main passage splitting three ways. In each passage one of the aspects of the Morrigan stood. At first I could not believe it but then Macha spoke and told me of my father's derision of her and the curse she laid on him in revenge. She'd sworn if he would not have her love, he would have her hatred and she would pit herself against him in battle. But she hadn't anticipated her vow stripping him of his humanity and twisting him into the monster he became._

 _He wreaked chaos everywhere he went and too many lives were lost as a result. The Morrigan has tasked me with restoring the balance and to do so she has sent me back to a time before my father's birth to ensure he never chooses the path that led to my presence here today. She swore there would be no repercussions to any actions I might take to prevent my father's folly as the events that led to it should not have occurred._

She'd done it! She'd found the proof she needed to bring her theory to Tom. She laughed in relief, feeling tears roll down her cheeks as tension drained away from her. According to this she could tell Tom anything since the rules she'd learned in third year didn't apply here. She dashed out of the library happily to find Abraxas and show him what she'd found.

 **A/N: Thanks everyone for following/reviewing again. It means the world. Also, I'm not an expert in Celtic mythology (Ecology is more my area of expertise** **) and any reference or use of it in my writing depends heavily on internet sources – and yes Wikipedia** _ **is**_ **one of them. Any differences in mythology between my writing and the classic telling of the myth is probably due to my own misunderstanding of what I've read or a deliberate change on my part. Sooo, please don't hate me (and tell me what you think).**

 **A/N2: A shout-out to guest reviewer Sarah: I'm glad you're finding the story interesting so far.**

 **Guest Reviewer: I know. Nothing can be the same. It's wonderful. :P**

 **Sending love,**

 **flames**

 **P.S. New chapter as usual next Friday.**


	11. An Intervention and Some Leverage

**Disclaimer: The usual.**

 **A/N: Sigh. I'm preparing to go out in the field for some electro-fishing tomorrow and its looking like its going to be (a) cold and (b) wet, so probably the most miserable field day this season. Luckily it _should_ be one of the very last... But as a result, another early chapter (because I want to procrastinate on getting my kit together). I'm just going to accept that I have no self control and that I'm going to post when I want to... That _doesn't_ mean I'll post more than once a week though (I rarely write more than a chapter a week... so anymore than that is wishful thinking). All the same... Enjoy everyone.**

 _The shadow past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst._ – _Fugitive Pieces_ , Anne Michaels

Tom sat at his desk writing a letter to Borgin and Burkes, accepting their job offer. It was the perfect way for him to track down the objects he was interested in. "Come in," he called as someone knocked softly on the door to the study. The door swung open to reveal Abraxas clutching a sheath of parchment. The sight of Abraxas brought back thoughts of Hermione and he scowled remembering how he'd lost control in front of her and Abraxas the previous week. How he continued to feel as though he'd somehow lost the upper hand over her.

"What?" he demanded, rising to his feet.

Abraxas shoved the parchment at Tom. "Here," he grunted, "It's all done. Legitimized, filed with the Ministry, everything. She's officially a cousin."

Tom scanned the parchment, nodded and, after carefully folding it, placed it into his shirt pocket. "Good," he said curtly, flicking a hand at the blonde wizard to dismiss him.

Abraxas didn't budge. "Why bother?" he demanded, "Why make me go through all that trouble when you're just going to let Antonin have his way with her after she gives you the information you want?"

Tom growled and flashed a glare at Abraxas. The intensity of the glare increased when it became apparent that Abraxas wasn't going to leave even after it had reached its maximum intensity. "Why do you care?" he grunted eventually.

"I care because she's family," Abraxas snapped, pointing his finger at the pocket holding the parchment he'd handed Tom accusingly. "You made her my family."

"You barely know the chit," Tom snapped, carding a hand through his hair and glaring out the window and over the grounds. Honestly, he didn't know where Antonin had gotten the idea that Tom would give him the girl when he was through with her. He'd never been prone to sharing before. Not even his broken castoffs. He couldn't tell Abraxas that though. "And she's not family even if a piece of paper exists saying she is. You and I both know it's fake."

"I've spent countless hours with her in the library," Abraxas snarled, "It's not like we don't fucking talk when we're in there. We're not all comfortable with uncomfortable silences, Tom. So, I actually know a fair bit about her."

"Yes," Tom said, staring straight at Abraxas. He was irritated with the blonde's brashness, with his concern for Hermione. He was irritated because the girl seemed to like Abraxas but still cringed away from him in fear. Not that he'd particularly done anything to dispel that fear but he hadn't touched her or interacted with her in any significant way since the library last week. He didn't want to. He didn't want to know what other insights she had into his character. "But nothing of consequence. Isn't that right?"

Abraxas swallowed uncomfortably. "Not especially."

Tom raised a slender eyebrow and watched curiously as Abraxas began to squirm. "You _do_ know something."

"No," Abraxas half-shouted, and wilted as Tom fixed him a frown. "Fine. Yes. She told me how she thought she got here. It's ludicrous but she's trying to find proof in the library to show you."

"And how do you know this theory when she hasn't told me anything?" Tom asked coolly, inspecting his nails disinterestedly. Abraxas fidgeted uncomfortably, seeing through his calm act easily enough to the irritation simmering underneath.

"She asked me not to…"

"And who is your leader?" Tom asked dangerously calmly.

"Y-you milord," Abraxas stammered, bowing his head and prostrating himself at Tom's feet.

"And what, pray tell me, is Hermione's purpose here?" Tom asked, still in that soft voice that signified danger to anyone who knew him well.

"To give you information about the future," Abraxas whispered.

"Which you chose not to divulge to me," Tom sneered.

"A mistake, my lord," Abraxas murmured, "Of course. It will not happen again."

"No it won't," Tom said, pulling his wand out of his robes and pointing it at Abraxas who shrank toward the floor in apprehension.

Just as Tom opened his mouth to utter the cruciatus curse, the door to the study burst open and Hermione surged in. Her cheeks were flush with her excitement and her hair streamed down her back in chaotic ringlets. "Abraxas!" she shouted, waving a small black journal, worn with time, "You have to see—" She broke off abruptly as she took in the scene before her.

"What the fuck is going on here?" she demanded, her find forgotten. She glared at Tom for a long moment, and then knelt to tug at Abraxas' sleeve. "Abraxas, get off the floor."

"I am merely reminding Abraxas who he answers to," Tom snapped, his eyes fixed hungrily on the small journal in her hand. She'd looked giddy, like she'd found the answer to all of her problems. Since her main one was him, he wondered what that journal contained that could have excited her so much. "As you would do well to remember yourself."

Hermione flushed and she looked at Abraxas incredulously. "You didn't tell him?" she asked. Tears swarmed in the corners of her eyes and Tom wanted to roll his eyes at the display of emotion.

Abraxas shook his head and she smiled a fleeting half-smile that disappeared as soon as she looked at Tom again. "He wasn't going to help me if I didn't tell him why," she said quietly, "I assumed he would tell you. I was prepared for that."

"Well he didn't," Tom said stiffly, "Now if you'll excuse us…"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "No," she snarled, "Leave him alone. He hasn't done anything wrong."

"In whose book?" Tom snapped, his voice whip-like, "Yours, unfortunately for Abraxas, doesn't matter in this room." Hermione flushed angrily as she stood up and moved in front of Abraxas, blocking him from Tom's view.

"I was going to show you what I found," she said, "If you hurt Abraxas in any way, I won't."

Tom laughed incredulously. "I think you'll find, love," he hissed, "that I'll do whatever I damn well please, and get whatever I fucking want. From you, from Abraxas." He gestured with his hand and she took a reluctant step toward him, glaring daggers at him. "I wasn't going to make you watch… but if you really want to…"

"No," she said through gritted teeth. She was fruitlessly resisting the pull of his binding. "Tom, please, let me explain my theory and… and let Abraxas go off to whatever duties…"

Tom shook his head sharply and she reached out to him desperately as she reached him. Her fingers gripping his wrist in a deliberate touch for the first time since she'd arrived in this time. "Tom…" He gripped her shoulders harshly, and she flinched slightly but didn't back down.

"Found someone you care about in this time?" Tom asked, while she stared at him in horror, "A pity that. You've finally given me some leverage."

"Perhaps," Hermione said, her eyes flickering to look at Abraxas hunched on the ground behind her, "But not enough for you to get anything much out of me."

"Then maybe you'd like to hear my other idea to loosen your tongue," he said.

Hermione shook her head violently. "No," she said, "Still no."

Tom ignored her and continued conversationally. "You've heard of Pavlov's dog?" he asked, and watched with half hooded eyes as she nodded warily, "I was thinking something similar… but less positively motivated, and more fear motivated."

He watched her thoughts race as she tried to piece together what he was getting at. What he had planned. He leaned forward and breathed in her ear. "You have all these _fond_ memories of your friends and family, no?" Her nod in response was jerky, and he smiled, knowing she'd figured out at least part of it. He drew back slightly to watch her reaction. "Well, what if I were to make it so that it was excruciatingly agony to think of them? What if I stripped whatever comfort you gleaned from your memories away so that you couldn't think of them even if you wanted to?"

Hermione's eyes closed for a long moment. "You do that, and I'll believe that whatever humanity you had is gone forever and that whatever twisted you into the monster I knew has already won." Tom startled as she leaned toward him unexpectedly. It was the first time she'd intentionally moved closer to him. "I'll continue to _pity_ you," she breathed in his ear.

It was like she wanted to poke the serpent sleeping in his chest. Like she wanted to wake it up and have it go on a rampage with her at its epicentre. After last week, he couldn't believe that she'd bring that up again. His lip curled back in an ugly sneer at her provocation.

"Watch yourself, Hermione," he whispered in her ear, "You're treading dangerous ground."

She swallowed hard but otherwise remained perfectly still. "You told me," she said after a long silence rift with tension and anticipation, "when I arrived here, that this could be easy, or hard. I'm choosing easy, ok. Easy. I'll tell you anything you want. Just… don't… _Please…_ "

HG*TR

Tom smiled a predatory smile at her. "Oh, love," he said, "I'll need a gesture of good faith to believe that after all the fuss you've made about _rules_."

She cringed at the look he fixed on her and took a deep breath. "Of course," she said evenly. They were standing so close she could feel his body heat radiating off of him, "Whatever you want. Just…"

She gasped as Tom shoved her into his desk chair, not expecting the sudden movement. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Abraxas begin to pick himself up carefully, watching her with a shocked but awed expression on his face. "How did you come to be here?" Tom demanded.

She held out the diary she'd found that morning carefully. "Divine intervention," she said with a smirk. She struggled to maintain a cool, indifferent composure, but inside she trembled with her fear. If she didn't get this right, she could lose the memories she cherished because there was no way back to them.

Tom's eyes narrowed on her. "Hermione," he said warningly. His wand twitched in his hand and she watched it warily. Abraxas fidgeted by the door, distracting her and she fixed him with a look before she turned her attention back to Tom.

Idly she wondered how many horcruxes he'd made so far. The diary definitely, and probably the ring. She wasn't sure if he would have found the locket yet. She hoped not because it meant there was that much less left for her to save. And she had decided she wanted to save him if she could since it was unlikely she would ever get the opportunity to kill him. "He should leave," she said, gesturing to Abraxas, "You won't want him to hear this."

Tom's expression twisted into a snarl and he turned to Abraxas angrily. "Out," he snapped and watched as the wizard scurried out without another word. He turned back to Hermione, the scowl glued in place. "Talk."

"How many?" Hermione asked.

"How many what?" Tom snarled at her but she could see the apprehension behind his anger.

"You know what I mean. How many have you made? I'm assuming since you've graduated that you made the diary… and probably found the ring too. What about the locket?"

"How—" Tom started to ask but she cut him off.

"Dumbledore figures it out and charges Harry with destroying them."

"Of course it would be Dumbledore," Tom muttered darkly, "How do you know about them?"

"I helped Harry of course," Hermione shrugged, "And Ron… We destroyed the last one moments before I got sent back. You'd miscalculated, see. Split your soul too many times so when you tried to kill Harry and his mother's protection caused the curse to rebound, it caused your soul to split again and half of it latch onto the only living thing left in the room while the rest fled as a spectre."

"I don't understand," Tom hissed.

Hermione sighed and summarized without any inflection: "In just over two decades, when you make a bid for power, there's a prophecy that only the person born as July ended, that is marked as the Dark Lord's equal, will have the power to destroy him. There were two babies that fit that description: a halfblood – Harry, the son of James and Lily Potter – and a pureblood – Neville, the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom. You decided that Harry was the greater threat, so on Halloween you broke into their house and proceeded to kill both James and Lily before turning on their son. However, since Lily had died to save her son, her protection lingered on his skin as a shield, and caused your killing curse to rebound and hit you instead."

She paused, watching Tom mull over what she'd divulged and felt… relieved that she could tell him this freely, that her way was clear and she needn't fear the repercussions that normally faced witches and wizards meddling with time. "You said I'd miscalculated," he said finally, "What consequences did I not anticipate?"

Hermione laughed. "What?" she asked incredulously, as Tom glowered at her, "You thought you would split your soul not once, not twice, but _seven_ times and remain sane? I'm not even sure there was enough soul left in your body at the end for you to even be considered _human_. You certainly didn't _look_ it, what with the resurrection and all."

She flinched as Tom grabbed her forearms and threw her against the wall growling. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth and spraying across her face.

"I was there," she snarled back, bristling, "You have no fucking idea how bad it was. How bad you made it. You can't even imagine… what I had to do to protect my parents… my friends…" He voice faltered as she remembered events that were all too close to reality still: Colin's lifeless body, Remus and Tonks lying side by side in the Great Hall, Fred blown back like a rag doll as the wall exploded behind him. Too young to die, all of them. She inhaled deeply and she met his ice blue eyes directly. "I watched so many of my friends _die_ because they were trying to stop you. And on your side… You were insane. You tortured your followers for _fun_ , made them do depraved things for your pleasure. And god forbid they fail you in some way…"

He was so close his lips almost brushed hers and she pressed herself as far away from him as she could. She could feel their breath mingling between them, his hands digging cavities into her forearms. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of a lie, even the slightest hint. She let memories of what she'd seen in battle, what she'd experienced wash over her and watched as he flinched away from her.

She sagged, her chest heaving, as he whirled around to pace the small study, and watched him warily. "How?" he snapped, whirling back to face her, face pale, eyes wild. He ran a slender hand through his black hair, ruffling it into disorderly tufts and Hermione was struck by how much he looked like Harry with his hair mussed that way. "No… We— We're off topic. We were discussing how you ended up here…"

"Yes, that," Hermione said coolly, "You're not going to believe me."

"How could it possibly be more far-fetched than you appearing in my sitting room almost 50 years in your past?"

"Because the Morrigan intervened. When you tried to kill me that day in the battle, Harry tried to save me and the two spells combined allowing the Morrigan to manipulate time and save me. Or so I assume…" Hermione whispered. She watched Tom watch her carefully.

"You told this to me, Hermione," Tom said quietly and she flinched as he returned to her side and reached out to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, almost tenderly. The intent behind the gesture curdled in his eyes. A warning. "The killing curse combined with a deflection charm and the combined spell turned an ice blue which exploded into a crackling ball of electricity around you upon impact. After which you found yourself here."

" _Yes_ ," Hermione said, "But I heard something in the blackness as I was transported. An echo of something you had said to me just a few minutes before the spell hit me. _Too much blood spilled_ , said in your voice, Harry's, and a woman's that I didn't recognize."

"And then that night… after you'd left me in your chambers and I'd fallen asleep, I dreamed I was in a cave and three women visited me. The different female aspects of the Morrigan. And the voice of the Crone, Macha, was the same as the third voice in the darkness just before I appeared in the sitting room."

"Your point, Hermione?" Tom hissed. His thumb brushed over her cheek and she forced herself to remain still.

" _They sent me back_ ," Hermione breathed, "because the wars you'd caused had disrupted the balance and they needed to right it."

Tom laughed and Hermione flinched as he retreated from her, leaving her breathing heavily against the wall. His face contorted angrily as he turned back to her. "So they sent you?" he snapped, skepticism running rampant through his voice and over his features, "I don't _believe_ you."

"Of course you don't!" she snarled back, pushing away from the wall and stalking over to him, pressing her hands against his chest as though she was going to push him. He grabbed her wrists tightly enough that she flinched backward, and jerked her forward so her body was flush with his again. "Why the fuck would you believe me? I _can't_ lie to you. Or have you forgotten you're a m _aster legimens_? Just because you don't like the truth doesn't mean it's not true!"

"Just because I know legimancy, doesn't mean you can't lie," he hissed in her ear, breath fizzing against her neck as she shivered with _something_.

"Don't you get it?" she cried, "I want to _save_ you!"

He pushed her away from him roughly and she stumbled back into the wall. "Yeah," he said, looking away from her stonily, "Well, maybe I don't want to fucking be saved."

"But—" she started to protest but he held up a hand to stall her.

"Just because you don't like how I turn out in the future, doesn't mean I need saving, Hermione," he said, meeting her gaze for split second, "If you can't see that, then maybe you shouldn't have come here."

"I—" He pressed a hand over her mouth.

"I don't care if was your choice or not. Your future is gone. It was a possibility and now it's not because you're here. So, I'm sorry if you think it's your job to _save_ me, but it's not, because the man that needed to be saved doesn't exist yet and he might never exist at all. And if you can't accept that, you should leave." He gestured toward the door as she swallowed whatever she'd been about to say and it swung open silently. She stared at him for a few long moments, and then she nodded sharply, set the journal on the desk, and left without another word.

She walked through the halls numbly, making her way back to her rooms silently. As the door to her suite swung shut behind her, she collapsed back against the door and began to cry silently.

 **A/N: So… that's that confrontation dealt with. Thoughts?**

 **On a side note… Anyone interested in the quote at the beginning of the chapter should check out** _ **Fugitive Pieces**_ **by Anne Michaels. Completely outstanding author. Her imagery is out of this world and she just has this way of tying together scenes of mundane happenings with acts of human cruelty/indifference that is completely breathtaking. It sounds weird now that I've written that, but her novel is about WWII and the Holocaust and the nature of humanity so in that context it makes sense (I think?). Anyway, it's not a light read by any means but it is definitely worth the attempt.**

 **A/N2: Sarah: I hope Tom and Hermione's interactions met your expectations.**

 **G** **uest Reviewer#1 - Glad you're enjoying Dolohov.**

 **Guest Reviewer#2 - Erm. Yes. Ok. Dolohov will get what's coming to him... just not for a couple more chapters.**

 **Sending love to readers, followers, and reviewers alike. You all hold a special place in my heart.**

 **Cheers,**

 **flames**

 **P.S. Next update sometime late next week. Reviews _might_ make the update come faster but we'll have to see.**


	12. Nowhere to Go But Here

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. But you knew that.**

 **A/N: Because its Halloween and I have nothing better to do. Also, I'm sick and have a raging headache and bed sounds really good as soon as this is posted. Enjoy.**

 _Perhaps it is better to have a place to go to that you hate than to have no place at all._

\- Alistair MacLeod

Hermione wiped her tears away slowly and winced as she recalled the conversation she'd just walked away from with Tom. She knew where she'd gone wrong. She shouldn't have implied there was something in him that inherently needed _saving_. She wasn't even sure if there was.

She cringed as she thought about how she'd react if someone – like Ron, as if he'd ever think to do something like that – had tried to _save_ her from her ignorance of wizarding culture and customs. If he'd implied there was something inherently wrong with her for being born with two muggle parents. She'd have done a lot worse than set birds on him, and so the lack of any explosive reaction from Tom when she'd done the same, startled her. And worried her, because in her attempt to make up for her slip the other day she might just have made it worse. And Slytherins were known for biding their time to retaliate against slights.

With a weary sigh, she stretched and felt stiff muscles creak as she wove her way to her feet. Tears burned in her eyes as she remembered Tom's last words to her. _If you can't accept that, you should leave_. She didn't really see another option but the one implicit in his words, and it wasn't even that she couldn't accept that he didn't need saving, or that the man she'd known as Lord Voldemort didn't exist yet and might never. It was that she knew Tom Riddle was not a person to forgive mistakes and she'd made two since meeting him, and she didn't know any way to apologize that would make anything better. And so… it might be better if she just left, even if she had no where to go.

HG*TR

Abraxas found Tom the next morning languishing in his study, feet resting on the table, brow furrowed as he perused the sheathe of parchment that had arrived in the mail that morning for him. As Abraxas knocked tentatively and Tom waved him in, Tom's feet slid to the ground with a distinct thud and Abraxas winced at the sound. Neither Tom nor Hermione were happy after their "discussion" the day before. In fact, he hadn't seen Hermione since he'd been kicked out of the same study he sought Tom in now.

"I hate to ask," he said, as Tom glowered, "but—"

"Then _don't_ ," Tom said, without venom, which was something that worried Abraxas more than Hermione's absence since the day before.

Abraxas shot him a _look_ , and continued, ignoring his leader and friend's wishes. " _But_ ," he stressed the word slightly, "Where's Hermione?"

Tom startled slightly and then shot a toxic glare at Abraxas, before he shrugged. "Dunno," he said evenly, but Abraxas could detect the slight waver in his voice that indicated that whatever had been discussed the day before had _not_ been received well by either party. Which he'd known since, if Hermione had been even partially satisfied with the outcome of her discussion with Tom, he'd have seen her by now, and Tom would be petulant and moody. And if Tom had won whatever little war of wills they'd been waging for the past week and half since Hermione had arrived, there would be gloating and smug smiles on Tom's part, and weak grimaces and deflections on Hermione's as she tried to mask just how terrified she was in her enemies' camp.

"So what?" Abraxas hissed, stepping closer to Tom than was probably wise, considering how much he was pushing the dark-haired wizard at the moment. "You just don't _care_ anymore, Tom? You made me _forge_ papers to legitimize her! And I _know_ you haven't gotten whatever it is you want from her because you're in here _sulking_ and she's off somewhere _hiding_."

Tom shrugged again and Abraxas resisted the urge to shake the man. _Oh, screw it,_ he thought and then said calmly – waiting for the inevitable explosion, "Well, since you're obviously not interested anymore you might as well hand her over to Dolohov."

" _Abraxas_ ," Tom warned, turning in his chair to shoot venom at the blond wizard. The heel of his hand scrubbed the skin just above the bridge of his nose in irritation and he pointed to the door in an obvious dismissal.

Abraxas ignored the gesture and plowed on. " _Tom_."

"Bloody hell, Abraxas," Tom snapped, his ire raised at the blonde's stubbornness, "Would you desist?" Abraxas merely crossed his arms and stared at Tom expectantly. "Why'd you have to go and grow a backbone over that chit anyway?" Tom grumbled as he set the parchment he'd been reading down.

"You were the one who assigned me to watch her," Abraxas reminded him, "If you didn't want me to form attachments you shouldn't have had me make her a cousin. And I _like_ her. More than some of the other people you've recruited for your cabal. A hell of a lot more than Antonin Dolohov."

"Dolohov—" Abraxas cut Tom off before he could get started on Dolohov's virtues.

"Is cunning, devious, and ruthless. Yes, I've heard. He's also completed twisted. More so than you, and that's saying something," Abraxas sighed, watching his friend stare out the window with forced nonchalance.

"Do… you think I'm a monster?" Tom asked softly and Abraxas had to strain to hear the muted question.

"No," Abraxas responded immediately, "Dolohov on the other hand…" He sighed and pressed his hand to his brow. "Look, I'm not trying to undermine you…" Tom snorted but let it slide and Abraxas continued, "but Hermione… she's something special. Something you wanted to pursue less than a week ago and now… I don't know what happened between the two of you but you need to work it out. She wants to find a way back."

"She won't," Tom said and he reached across the desk to pick up the journal Hermione had raced in here with the day before and tossed it to Abraxas, "There's no way back for her. It's all in there. She's stuck and she knows it, and she thinks I'm depraved and a monster and that there's no redeeming my more questionable traits."

Abraxas was silent for a long moment as he cracked the journal open gently and scanned the first page, letting out a low whistle as he got to the end of the first entry. "So she was right."

"Yes." The single word was sharp and held more than a bit of anguish in it. Abraxas glanced at the entry again and wondered how bad things had to get for a goddess to intervene and send someone back to rectify the situation.

He sighed again. "You need to talk to her. She was sent here for a reason…"

Tom laughed bitterly. "Yeah. She wants to _save_ me," he sneered, and the sour expression on his face as he said _save_ made Abraxas want to laugh.

When Tom's face twisted into a pout, Abraxas did laugh and only laughed harder as Tom scowled at him. "I wouldn't go that far, mate," he said, "But there are worse things than a pretty witch wanting to save you."

"But…" Tom started to protest and Abraxas cut him off in exasperation.

"Please," he sighed, "Just… go find her so I can stop worrying about Dolohov cornering her again and trying to do something worse than grope her."

"What?!" Tom snarled, jumping to his feet and bristling.

"He cornered her in the library yesterday while I was finalizing Hermione's papers at the Ministry. Nothing happened but she was a bit shaken up…"

"I'm going to kill him!" Tom growled and Abraxas breathed a sigh of relief that Tom wasn't going to pursue the notion that she'd had to have been left alone for something like that to happen.

"After you talk to Hermione," Abraxas agreed, "I haven't seen her since you kicked me out of here yesterday and I'm worried about her." Tom glowered at him but nodded sharply after a moment and went off in search of Hermione.

HG*TR

Tom hesitated as he reached the door to the suite of rooms Abraxas had moved Hermione into. He raised a hand to knock politely, then dropped it as he shook of the urge to give her the courtesy of a warning that he'd come to see her, and instead flung the door open to reveal her empty rooms.

"Shite," he hissed, as he entered the room and took in the neatly made bed and empty wardrobe. It didn't look like anyone had ever lived in here. He noticed a scrap of yellow against the red of the bed covers and snatched up the note that was the only evidence she'd been sleeping in these rooms.

 _Abraxas,_

 _I'm sorry if this gets you in trouble but I… can't stay. I'll let you know how when I find a place to stay and get settled so you know I'm safe but until then, thank you for your hospitality._

 _Yours,_

 _Hermione_

Tom swore under his breath and spun around the room looking for any clue that she'd had any sort of plan when she'd taken him at his word last night and left. The little muggleborn witch from the future would get torn apart in the current blood-purist climate in London if she went there. Nothing jumped out at him and he swore again before he remembered the binding he'd placed on her the night she'd appeared in the living room of Malfoy Manor.

HG*TR

She hadn't gotten far. Indecision, and perhaps reluctance to leave a place that was slowly starting to feel safe after so long on the run meant her determination to leave faltered before she'd even left the grounds of the manor. Only stubbornness had pushed her through the main gates and then she'd dragged herself another half kilometre up the road before she'd given up and perched on an old stone fence staring back at the manor thoughtfully.

She wondered briefly whether Tom's leash had anything to do with her reluctance to leave the grounds, but dismissed the idea because she couldn't feel the binding tugging her even if she could still feel the ribbon tied around her wrist. No, her reluctance stemmed from the knowledge that if she left, she had nothing. No belongings, no identity, no connections, no money. She didn't have anything that could help her in 1940's England. She supposed she could try to get a job somewhere, but, really, with no records she was limited to menial occupations like shop's assistant and the like. Jobs that would eventually drive her insane with their repetitive motions.

She started as she felt a tug on the leash and looked up at the Manor to see a dark figure coming toward her quickly. "Fuck," she whispered as she recognized Tom and straightened on her perch to watch him come closer and closer.

HG*TR

Tom stopped dead when he found Hermione sitting on a fence just outside the manor's grounds looking completely miserable. A spark of terror lingered in her eyes and she swallowed hard as he took a step closer intending to… what he didn't know… except he was furious she'd thought she could slip out from under his thumb so easily. But looking at her face – the resignation, fear, and relief written there – he realized that she hadn't thought it would be that easy at all, and the anger that had burned through him upon finding her missing drained away.

"I'm sorry," she said, and Tom knew just looking at the emotions flickering across her face that she wasn't just apologizing for trying to leave, "I… You said leave but… I don't want to. I'm sorry." Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.

"I didn't say you could leave," Tom said and the tears vanished, replaced with irritation. She stiffened as he stepped closer and glared at him. He smiled. That was better. She had so much fire in her but her fear drowned it.

"You said…"

"Exactly," he purred, drawing closer to her, "But you clearly know many interesting tidbits of information that may yet help me in my quest. So, unfortunately your time here has not reached its end yet. Besides, I was unaware that you had anywhere else to go."

Her eyes closed and she seemed to sag with something like relief as he came within arms reach of her. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, "I didn't—" She broke off as Tom pressed a finger to her lips.

"Shh," he whispered, "I know." And he did. He understood because he could read her like an open book, and she was a scared, volatile, and powerful witch thrust into her enemy's arms like a gift. And while the enemy she knew didn't exist yet, he also knew that it was hard to brush away the cobwebs of ingrained prejudices. She shuddered, and as the tension bled from her neck and shoulders, tears began to stream down her face.

He stood there awkwardly for a moment before he pulled her to her feet and into his arms in a tentative embrace that she burrowed into.

 **A/N: Almost out of the woods now. ;-)**

 **A/N2: In about 3 chapters there will be a chapter consisting of a series of short 100-200 mini-scenes (some sweet, some sad, some angry) as I flash through a month or two of time as Tom and Hermione adjust to their new reality. IF there is a scene you would like to see included: leave a review with the request or PM me and I'll do my best to include it with a shout out to whoever requested the scene (Please do, I'm looking for some inspiration to round out the chapter!).**

 **A/N3: Guest Reviewer#1 – Hopefully this chapter answers your question.**

 **Sarah – Awww. Thank you!**

 **Guest Reviewer#2 - Thanks!**

 **jc - Ah. Yes, that is the cover story. It made sense at the time (Of course with my pounding head right now I'm not remembering _why_ I wrote it that way at the moment but I'll try to explain). Hermione has no friends or family in 1946. She's alone, unprotected, and vulnerable. Tom wants something from her and he doesn't want his friends to mess with her until he gets what he wants. He doesn't necessarily want to follow through with the engagement - it's merely convenient until he gets what he wants and can dispose of her.**

 **Thank you for the continued support. Virtual hugs and kisses to all.**

 **Happy Samhain,**

 **flames**


	13. Simon Says

**Disclaimer: Do I even need to say it?**

 **A/N: Meant to post Friday but I was in no state to… The world kept spinning even without a computer screen in front of my face. I spent most of the day with the blinds closed, trying to sleep. Stupid cold.**

 _What matter though numb nightmare ride on top,_

 _And blood and mire the sensitive body stain?_

 _What matter? Heave no sigh, let no tear drop,_

 _A greater, more gracious time has gone_

\- _The Gyres_ , W.B. Yeats

When Hermione began to shiver in his embrace, he pulled back to examine her. "Alright?" he asked, seriously. She avoided his eyes studiously and he sighed, tilting her chin gently and forcing her to meet his gaze. "Ok?" he repeated, and she nodded.

She was a pitiful sight with tear tracks running down her face, blotchy red spots on her cheeks, and red-rimmed eyes. "Yeah," she whispered. He tightened his grip on her for a brief moment and then released her completely.

"Good," he said as he held out his arm for her to take, "Let's get you inside and warmed up then." She hesitated but took his arm gently when he stared at her expectantly and they started the long walk back to the manor.

Now that he'd found and retrieved her safely, his thoughts returned to what Abraxas had told him about Dolohov, and the rage that had dissipated upon finding her, reawakened in his gut. "No one's been giving you any trouble, have they?" he asked quietly. She stiffened slightly beside him but shook her head. He stopped abruptly to grip her shoulders tightly. Her eyes widened with fresh terror and he sighed as he loosened his grip, letting his hands slide down her arms slightly. "You're a horrible liar," he said.

She averted her eyes, flinching. "'M not lying," she murmured quietly.

"Hermione," he sighed, watching her tense at the flat tone of his voice, "Who bothered you? Abraxas?"

Her eyes flew up to meet his so quickly he almost laughed. "Not Abraxas," she said vehemently, "He didn't do anything. Don't—"

He pressed a finger to her lips to stop her babbling. "Who?" he asked simply.

She bit her lip as he sighed again. "Abraxas told me," he said, "Who, Hermione?"

"Why do I have to tell you if you already know?" she retorted. Her hand rubbed between her breasts, unconsciously in a nervous tic he'd noticed only came out when Dolohov was mentioned or nearby. He sighed again, wondering why she was being so difficult. It wasn't even as if he was angry with her – he _knew_ she knew better to cross him. His friends, on the other hand, were another story, although most of them had a healthy respect for him and wouldn't dare crossing him.

"Because I want to hear it from you," he said, controlling his voice carefully. Dolohov had always been a pervert and had an unfortunate habit of inappropriate advances on other blokes' girls. However, he'd thought that all of his friends' wariness of him would deter any advances on his new toy.

"I—" she sighed noisily through her nose. "Fine. Dolohov cornered me in the library yesterday. He made a couple of advances and when I refused to play along he pinned me against a bookcase and…" He watched with a growing fury as she steeled herself to continue. "I-if Abraxas hadn't come along when he did, I don't know what would have happened," she choked out. Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes again but she brushed them away furiously.

Tom bristled angrily. _Mine_ , he thought looking at her. How _dare_ Dolohov think he could touch her without permission? He startled as Hermione pulled on his sleeve. She was shivering against the chill in the air as the landscape darkened around them into twilight. "Tom," she whispered, "Can we go in now? Please?"

He shook his head, "Sorry," he whispered, drawing her closer for a moment to warm her against his body heat, "One more thing." He stilled the hand that continued worrying at her chest and she went completely still. "What did he do to you in your past?"

She drew back as far as he would let her and examined his face carefully. "Did Abraxas tell you?" she asked, a hint of anger in her eyes at the thought.

"No," he said, a bit annoyed that Abraxas once again hadn't passed along information he'd gleaned from her. He pushed the annoyance away irritably and focussed on Hermione. "He didn't. It's obvious though." He rubbed a thumb over a knuckle on the hand he held and she drew in a sharp breath.

"Of course," she breathed. She fidgeted slightly, and then shifted so her face was buried against his shoulder.

"Hermione," he said sharply and she chuckled weakly.

"I keep forgetting you're all Slytherins and see everything," she mumbled. There was a paused as she composed herself and drew back to look at him. "In fifth year," she said shakily, "We – Harry, Ron and I, as well as a few others – visited the Department of Mysteries because Harry thought you had captured his godfather and that you were torturing him there because of a dream you'd sent him through the piece of soul in his scar.

"You weren't… It was a set-up to get a copy of the prophecy made when Harry was born… You couldn't enter the Ministry to get it yourself, and no one except someone involved in the Prophecy could remove the copy kept in the Department of Mysteries without going insane… so you lured Harry to the Ministry with the dream… and we were ambushed by a group of Death Eaters.

"One of them was Dolohov. We were evenly numbered but we didn't have the same amount of experience so we were overmatched and got separated as we tried to escape. Dolohov followed Harry, Neville, and I. We got him with a silencing spell and then…" She choked slightly as she remembered, "Before we could neutralize him… he made a slashing gesture with his wand…"

Her hand travelled the path Dolohov's wand had taken and Tom watched transfixed. "And… and… purple light emitted from the end… He got me in the chest… and it was… agony… I don't remember much after that. I'm pretty sure I was in and out of unconsciousness. The next time I was really aware… I was back in the Hospital Wing and taking about twenty different potions a day for a month. And it still hurts occasionally… I have a purple scar where it hit me…"

Tom was silent as she shuddered against tears. "Madam Pomfrey said I should have died… That if he'd been… been able to say the incantation aloud… I would be… and I think… every… day… what if we hadn't managed to silence him… before…"

Tom pulled her closer, furious that in the timeline she'd come from he obviously hadn't recognized her brilliance. Of course, his crusade had been based on blood prejudice and she would have been young enough to be his granddaughter and he'd apparently been insane by that point. But he had her now and he wasn't about to let her go for anything. He would possess her, no matter what it took. And it that meant neutralizing a number of threats when he got her safely tucked away in his rooms back at the manor, so be it.

After a long moment of silence, she wiped her eyes and looked up at him again. "Can we go in now?" she asked quietly.

He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak, and they completed the rest of the walk in silence. He escorted her to his rooms and silenced her protests with a look before he warded her in to go deal with Dolohov.

HG*TR

"I want Dolohov," Tom snarled at Abraxas as he stalked into the study after depositing Hermione in his suite. "Now."

Abraxas flinched at his tone and nodded. "I'll find him," he said, getting up to leave. At the door to the study, he glanced back at Tom standing by the window, raking his hands through his hair angrily. "Hermione?" he asked and Tom glanced at him, some of the anger draining away at the question.

"Fine," he said shortly and Abraxas breathed a sigh of relief, "In my rooms. I found her at the end of the Manor's drive."

Abraxas nodded. "Good," he said simply, "I'll be right back with Dolohov."

HG*TR

Tom smiled coldly as Dolohov knocked on the door. The brawny man looked calm and collected, his dark hair tousled attractively and he grinned at his Lord. "You wished to see me, my Lord?" he murmured, bowing his head in acknowledgement. Abraxas appeared in the doorway behind him and Tom nodded in recognition. He wanted the blond here to help.

"Ah, yes," he said motioning Dolohov forward, "Abraxas was telling me a delightful story about you and Hermione in the library the other day."

"My Lord?" Dolohov swallowed uncomfortably and paled considerably. His easy smile fell off his face and his blue eyes hardened. "I wouldn't know what Abraxas was referring to."

"Wouldn't you?" Tom murmured, gesturing for Abraxas to come into the room. As the door shut behind Abraxas, he murmured, "Abraxas?"

Abraxas smiled thinly. "Antonin," he said, "You're telling me you don't remember your conversation with my _dear_ cousin in the library yesterday? The one where she had to tell you to _remove your hands from her person._ "

"I—" Dolohov licked his lips anxiously as his eyes darted around the room looking for an escape, "I remember it more as a seduction on her part."

Tom raised a curious brow and glanced at Abraxas. "That's not what she told me happened," he murmured, twirling his wand delicately in his hand. Dolohov watched the motion with growing fear and beads of sweat began to form on his brow. "Is that what she told you happened, Abraxas?" he asked.

"No, my Lord," Abraxas said.

"That _bitch_ lied to you both," Dolohov hissed, his fingers clenching into fists, as Tom and Abraxas watched him coolly.

"Watch your tongue, Antonin," Tom tsked, "Or Abraxas will have to defend his cousin's honour."

"That whore? Abraxas' cousin?" Dolohov laughed, abandoning any pretense of respect, " _Please_. I know you forged her papers."

" _Crucio_ ," Tom hissed, watching in satisfaction as the dark-haired man collapsed to the floor screaming. "What was that, Antonin?" he murmured as he released the curse.

"She's a fucking mudblood whore," Dolohov gasped, pulling himself upright and glaring at Tom, "And if you kept a shorter leash on her and let other _entertainment_ into the Manor, I wouldn't have to stoop to entertaining myself with the filthy mudblood."

"Maybe, you haven't figured out how friendship with Tom works," Abraxas said, stepping around the man's prone figure to Tom's side. "He tolerates you, allows you to bask in his power, and you do what he says when he says to do it. And if you're _useful,_ then you may be rewarded for your efforts. If not…"

"I don't fucking need Tom to get power," Dolohov snarled, "Unlike him, I'm not a filthy halfblood. I'm a pureblood with a distinguished lineage going back generations." Tom repressed the icy shiver that ran down his back. He could dismiss Dolohov's insult of Hermione's lineage as merely a way to provoke him and Abraxas, but _no one_ except Hermione knew about his lineage.

Tom laughed. "You think that means _anything_ outside the bigotry of Pureblood society?" he asked.

"I _know_ it does," Dolohov hissed.

"You poor, poor fool," Tom chuckled. He gestured to Abraxas. "Abraxas, if you would?"

Dolohov writhed as Abraxas' torture curse ripped through him. When he could no longer scream, Tom gestured for Abraxas to stop and waved his wand so the man rose up to hang before his face. "How did you find out?" he breathed, "How do you know about my parentage?"

Dolohov chuckled hoarsely. "You don't remember Tom?" he rasped, "I was in the meeting room that night. Got there just before she appeared and had settled into one of the alcoves for a nap while you talked with Thoros and Abraxas." Now that he'd been reminded of it, Tom did remember that Dolohov _had_ arrived early and disappeared into one of the alcoves. Tom felt his face drain of colour as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Hermione that night. There were things they'd discussed that he didn't want anyone to know the details of.

"Who else?" he whispered, "Who else did you tell?"

"No one," Dolohov gasped, "Was waiting for the right moment to blackmail you." Tom made eye contact with the mutinous Dolohov and reached into his mind, tearing out the information he wanted, relishing in the discomfort he caused the man as he did so. He relaxed slightly when he discovered that Dolohov was telling the truth.

"Did you actually think blackmailing me would work?" he breathed in the man's ear.

"If I had the girl," Dolohov choked out. Tom nodded. Of course that was his plan. He stepped back again and let Dolohov drop to the ground with a thud.

" _Obliviate_ ," he hissed, ripping out everything Dolohov had learned the night Hermione arrived. Dolohov shrieked and writhed on the ground as Tom made the process as painful as possible. As his whimpers died, he slithered to the hem of Tom's robes and prostrated himself there, babbling apologies. He'd keep the bastard alive for now, but only because he thought Hermione would be suspicious if Dolohov disappeared so suddenly after he'd learned about his advances on her.

He tossed a disgusted look at the wizard cowering on the floor. "You're only still alive right now because I want to get on Hermione's good side," he whispered, kneeling beside him, "I warn you though, look at or touch her inappropriately again and that's it. Your last chance. Capiche?"

Dolohov nodded, tears beginning to stream down his face. "I can't hear you," Tom hissed.

"Y-yes my lord," Dolohov stuttered and Tom raised a brow at him expectantly. "Th-thank you, my lord," he whispered after a prolonged silence. Dolohov's eyes glittered with hate as Tom stood up and brushed his hands off carefully.

Tom merely smiled down at him coldly. As far as he was concerned Dolohov's life was forfeit as of now but he also knew that killing the man right now wouldn't help him win Hermione over. But Dolohov would mess up again sometime in the near future and then… Dolohov would wish Tom had killed him tonight. He pulled his wand out as he thought of one last thing and cast a tongue-tying curse on the gibbering mess at his feet just to be safe.

"Abraxas," he murmured, "Another hour of this, I think. Then you can toss the bastard in the cellar for the night." Abraxas nodded and Tom left the room without another word. He heard the rasp of Dolohov's screams start up again before he silenced the door to the study and made his way back up to his suite.

 **A/N: So… Dolohov, huh? I know people were waiting for Tom's response to Dolohov's transgression.**

 **A/N2: Also, the next chapter is going to be fast-paced snippets of interactions between Tom and Hermione as they establish their new balance.** _ **If**_ **there is a scene you would like included, let me know via review/PM and I will try to work it in with a shout-out to whoever requests it. If it doesn't quite work within my plotline, I may write it anyway and put it in the deleted scenes fic. Thank you to everyone for the reviews so far.**

 **A/N3: Thanks, Sarah! I always love getting your review. And yes, there will be more Tomione next chapter.**

 **Guest Reviewer#1 – The peril of having nowhere to go. She's coming around to Tom though… I think.**

 **More on Friday, promise.**

 **Love,**

 **flames**


	14. Happiness or Freedom

**Disclaimer: Not mine. As per usual.**

 **A/N: I've gone back and forth about posting this chapter or in the Deleted Scenes fic. It doesn't really contribute to the plot and it's mostly filler. Also, there's no plot and it jumps from moment to moment with no warning so the plot within the chapter is virtually non-existent. This chapter is intended to cover a large chunk of time – a month or two – so I imagine the scenes happening chronologically but with varying unspecified amounts of time between them.**

 **A couple moments are dedicated to reviewers who requested specific scenes (I'll specify which ones at the beginning of the scene).**

 **You have been warned. Hopefully you don't hate it.**

 **Anyway, back to normal programming next week. Probably an update on Friday again because this chapter is _enormous_ (for me) and I just spent hours trying to make it more coherent.**

 _The choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better._

\- _1984_ , George Orwell

Ron glowered at her from across the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. "Honestly," he snarled, "You've always had a tendency to fraternize with the enemy."

She flinched, reaching a hand across the table toward him. Harry was sitting, tight lipped, beside Ron and, as she looked to him for support, his lips twisted into a frown and shook his head slightly. "Ron," she whispered helplessly, "Harry… Please it's not what it looks like… I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice!" Ron roared standing up and slamming his fists against the table. She recoiled sharply as the scene morphed around her so Ron and Harry were standing in front of her in the dining room of Malfoy Manor.

Tears burned in her eyes as she looked at her two closest friends and the stony looks on their faces. "It's not like I asked to be sent here," she cried, "I don't want to be here. And without Tom…" She trailed off as Ron's face warped with disgust.

" _And without Tom,_ " he mimicked viciously, "He's the enemy, Hermione. The fucking enemy, with a personal vendetta against our best friend. He's tried to kill all of us at one time or another, and if you weren't from the future he wouldn't give you a bloody second glance. And you're fucking going to let all of that go like fucking water under the bridge. You're going to _help him!_ "

"None of it's happened yet," she sobbed, looking between her two best friends helplessly, "I don't want you to have to grow up without your parents again, Harry. I'm trying to stop him before he ever gets started."

"By letting him win," Harry's voice was cold and stiff as he spoke for the first time and she trembled under his accusatory glare, "I'm sure my parents would rather die than live in the world you're going to create, with Tom Riddle as its Lord and Master."

She woke with a start, barely noticing as Tom stiffened beside her in his bed. Her tears came fast and furious as she turned her head into her pillow and sobbed, afraid that her dream was an accurate representation of what Harry and Ron would think if they knew where she was and what she was doing. She just didn't see how she had any other option…

HG*TR

Hermione huddled on the window seat in Tom's bedroom remembering the previous evening. Tom's arms had pulled her into his chest tightly and she'd burrowed into the comfort he offered. She couldn't believe she'd managed to pull comfort from the stiff embrace. It almost felt like a betrayal to everything her friends had suffered, the people she'd watched die at his hands or those of one of his followers.

Her dreams, after Tom had escorted her back to his suite of rooms, had been full of glimpses of Ron or Harry's faces, lips curled in disapproval. Dream-Ron especially had taken indignation, judging her like he always had when they'd been in school. Like Krum and the Yule Ball. She knew that particular incident had been sparked from jealousy but there had been many other identical moments of condemnation throughout their time at Hogwarts.

 _He's the enemy, Hermione! He'll kill Harry's parents. He wants to kill us! And you're letting him comfort you?!_

Except Tom hadn't shown any inclination to torture her or anyone else since she'd arrived here, with the single exception being the previous day when she'd walked in on him and Abraxas in the study. She knew of course everything that Dumbledore had told Harry, which he'd then relayed to her and Ron. Tom Riddle was intelligent, charismatic, charming, polite, endearing… and underneath the polished exterior, a viper coiled, waiting for the moment your guard was down to strike.

She only knew the Dark Lord, still intelligent, but completely unhinged, the other layers to his persona stripped away to reveal the blackness within, and she didn't know what to do with this charming young man who would gradually metamorphose into the tyrannical Dark Lord she knew. Her eyes slid shut in deep thought. If only she knew more. If only she could discern exactly what caused Tom's descent into madness – or at least what contributed other than the horcruxes. Then she might be able to stall it. Prevent it. Maybe.

Perhaps it wasn't so simple anymore. Tom was right in a way. Just being here changed things, and given what he had dragged out of her over the past two weeks, he knew the future was grim. Still… she wished for a few moments she'd been the one Dumbledore had confided in about Tom. Then she might have more insight into how her presence here changed things and a better idea how to prevent stepping down that road again.

HG*TR

 **(For Sarah, who has loyally reviewed the last 5 chapters. Thank you. I hope this meets your expectations.)**

" _No_ ," she snarled, glaring at Riddle from the doorway of his bedroom. He'd dragged her back to his rooms after dinner, claiming he'd wanted to talk some more over a cup of tea before bed. Not having a choice, and innocently believing she'd retire to her own rooms after, she'd accompanied him only to discover he meant for her to sleep beside him in his bed. She'd been too drained the night before to complain and she honestly hadn't thought that the sleeping arrangements would change now that they were sort of speaking to each other again.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Honestly," he chuckled, "You'd almost think you weren't my fiancé the way you're acting."

"I'm not," Hermione snapped, stamping her foot. Tom raised an eyebrow at the childish display and she fought back a blush as she crossed her arms stubbornly.

Her binding tightened and she hissed as she was forced to cross the room into Tom's waiting arms. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms gently even as she glared angrily at him. "You _are_ ," he murmured possessively, leaning forward so his lips brushed her ear and she shivered at the rush of heat that flooded her. She trembled slightly and she felt him smile.

"Where's my ring then?" she retorted, managing to jerk back far enough that she could see the double-edged smile adorning his handsome face.

"Soon love," he smiled, releasing her and stepping back slightly, "A surprise for another day." She relaxed as the taut tether went slack and she backed away nervously. When she didn't move to change into pyjamas or otherwise get ready for bed, and instead stared at him accusingly, he sighed. "We're not going to _do_ anything," he grumbled with irritation, "I promise."

When that didn't crack her glowering countenance, he growled. "Honestly, woman. I'm trying to protect you from some of my more lecherous followers."

"So give me my own room and ward it like this one," she snapped, unmoved by his explanation.

He shook his head angrily. "If you think wards will keep out the likes of McNair or Dolohov, you're sadly mistaken," he hissed as he stalked toward her. She cringed away and he followed her until she'd backed into the wall and he'd pinned her there. "They're only going to leave you alone if they think I've claimed you completely and even then…" He trailed off darkly and she shuddered as the implications of what he was suggesting whirled through her logical mind.

She felt herself deflate and he backed off a step to scrutinize her closely. "Fine," she whispered, the feel of Dolohov's hand sliding down her back and her utter helplessness in the face of it branded into her memory forever.

HG*TR

They watched her. She caught glimpses of them in their myriad of forms as she migrated from Tom's suites to the dining room to the library and back again. A hooded crow sat in the window. A red wolf panted by the fireplace in the library. When she blinked, or looked again they'd be gone. She'd catch sight of the three women aspects of the Morrigan in reflections but they weren't there when she checked of course.

They never said anything to her. Just watched. She knew they were waiting for her to do something… waiting for her to begin to undertake the task they'd given her. But she couldn't. Not yet. She still couldn't believe she'd been given free rein to meddle with the future. It felt illegal somehow.

It _was_ illegal. _Illicit_. And she felt as though she'd be betraying Harry and Ron if she deliberately did something to change anything. Except she could save so many people… and they'd never know now because by the time she finally saw them again everything would be different.

"I'm doing this for you," she whispered desperately, the image of her two best friends with folded arms and accusatory glares from her dreams branded into her retinas. "Please," she begged, "I'm doing this for you so none of you have to suffer through what happened. So you don't have to experience the horror and pain and bloodshed. _Please._ "

 _Even though it means we lose you?_ Harry's voice echoed through her mind achingly real. _Even though it means we might not be friends in the future?_

 _Yes_ , she thought, fighting back tears, _Yes. Absolutely. Anything to spare you._

HG*TR

She escaped to the gardens around the manor one morning, slipping out from under Tom's oppressively watchful eye and secluding herself in a glade beside the duck pond. She sat down by the water, sliding her low kid heels off her feet and dipping them in the cool water, before she lowered herself onto her back to stare up at the canopy above her.

Birds sang and flitted from branch to branch, and she basked in the warm spring air taking in the wind lightly rustling leaves and a squirrel chittering angrily in a nearby tree. The sun's rays shone down in a kaleidoscope of colour and sensation around her and her body sank slowly into serenity.

A single green leaf floated down, drawn to earth slowly by gravity and she focussed her entire being on it, taking in the lines of veins and how the light reflected off either side slightly differently. Sadness enveloped her as she thought about the inevitability of gravity, constantly drawing the leave down… down… to be trodden underfoot. What a sad fate, she thought, reaching out a hand to stay the leaf's flight and watching it split, duplicate, with a thin stick-like vein running between the two sides as the transfigured leaf flapped its new wings and flew, shaped by her intent.

She laughed with delight and turned her attention to manipulating the world around her wandlessly. Pulling glowing orbs of water to hang like lanterns around her, and transforming twigs and leaves and rocks into an army of woodland creatures. She hadn't felt so free since she was a child learning to manipulate her bouts of accidental magic and she delighted in knowing that she still had the ability to shape the world around her as she desired even after years of being instructed in the limitations of magic and told that wandless magic lacked finesse or control.

When she returned to the manor hours later for lunch, the dark-haired figure, who'd silently shadowed her from the manor that morning, entered the glade and looked at the remnants of the magic she'd wrought there in awe.

HG*TR

Hermione started at the soft knock on the door. She knew it had to be Tom because no one else had access to his suite. She pulled a bathrobe around herself and tiptoed to the door tentatively. "Yes?" she called softly.

"Hermione?" Tom's voice filtered through the wood, and she took a deep breath as she opened the door slightly. His hair was slightly ruffled, like he'd run a hand through it before he'd knocked and he shifted his feet uncertainly as she stared at him. She didn't think she'd ever seen him nervous. Excited, pleased, angry, afraid – yes – but never nervous. "Could I come in?" he asked tentatively when she didn't react other than to stare, "Only… I thought we could have breakfast here this morning. Alone, so we could talk."

She swallowed, unsure of how she felt about having breakfast with him alone. Of talking to him. "I—" she started to stammer but he cut her off.

"I'm not going to interrogate you," he said, "You're stuck here… it's not like…" He trailed off as she flinched. He took a deep breath and continued, "That's not what I meant. I… It'll be easier if you have friends."

"You want to be my friend," her voice was flat and he winced slightly at the tone. This was probably an act of some sort. An attempt to soften her up so she'd tell him more about the future.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, " _Yes_. What can it hurt?"

"A lot," she said flatly, staring him down and his lips thinned into a hard line. She didn't think he did anything without an ulterior motive. She _knew_ he didn't, and he hadn't made any move in the week since she'd moved back into his rooms to befriend her until this morning. She wanted to know what had changed. She wanted to know why.

"Hermione," he warned. She rubbed her forehead wearily. It was too early in the morning for this, and she was too tired to rationalize something she couldn't explain. She didn't want to get hurt, and the closer she got to him or anyone else, the more likely it was he'd dig something up that would pull her further under his thumb. Of course, he already had his fear conditioning plan…

She sighed and stepped back from the door. "Fine," she said, "Knock yourself out. I'll be right with you… As soon as I get dressed." She watched him retreat to the sitting room, and then walked over to the closet where she pulled out a pale blue cotton dress and put it on. She hissed as she attempted to tame her impossible hair and finally pulled it back into a loose bun before she cautiously re-entered the sitting room.

HG*TR

"House-elves magic is bound up in that of their master," Tom argued, "A strong house-elf has a strong master. Take away the master and the house-elf withers away because its existence it dependent on that bond."

Hermione glowered at him, sensing she was losing this argument even as she reached across the table to grab the jam – provided by house-elves – to slather it on another croissant. "Then how do you explain Dobby?" she rebutted, "Harry freed him and he never took up with another wizarding family. He didn't have a bond to sustain him."

Tom thought for a moment. "But he came when Harry called him, just like all bonded elves. I would guess that he tied his magic to the wizard he attributed to his freedom knowing that Harry wouldn't abuse him or give him orders."

"But he collected clothes," Hermione protested, "Harry gave him socks for Christmas several times. If he'd bonded with Harry, that would have set him free."

"No," Tom said, "The bond formed between the two was unconventional. It was never formalized or sealed properly – and as you said Harry never even knew about it – so the clauses spelling out release from the bond were inactive."

"But—"

"Does it matter?" Tom sighed, rapidly growing tired of the circular discussion on house-elf rights, "They enjoy serving. They _want_ to serve. The one example you can give me of an elf who wanted to be free – and he still _wanted_ to serve – is one who was horribly abused, and thus an exception."

" _Yes_ ," Hermione huffed, knowing she'd lost the argument but helpless to stop arguing. Every other house-elf she'd met, that had been treated even half-way decently, had enjoyed serving its family. Even Dobby had enjoyed serving, and it could be argued that his family had become her, Harry, and Rom after he'd been freed. "It does."

Tom, damn him, knew he'd won when she was unable to muster a stronger argument. He smirked at her knowingly as she glared back at him.

HG*TR

 **(For Gulb3rg, All-Good-Marauders, Holiday Heart, and the 3 guest reviewers who commented on Dolohov in reviews, because while you didn't specifically request a scene, your commentary convinced me not to kill Dolohov... yet.)**

Dolohov glared at her from across the table but she resolutely ignored him. Tom squeezed her shoulder gently and bent down to murmur in her ear just loud enough that she knew Dolohov could hear him. "He isn't bothering you is he, love?"

She shook her head quickly, watching as the man across from her paled significantly and averted his eyes from her face. She frowned and glanced at Tom to see his lips curled into a satisfied smirk at Dolohov's reaction that quickly slipped behind his mask. Thoughtfully she glanced down at her plate, wondering what Tom had done to make Dolohov look frightened to even look at her, and if it had been in retaliation for his advances on her in the library the other day, why the man was even still alive because she _knew_ Tom wouldn't ever forgive something like that.

As she lathered butter onto her usual croissant, she peeked back up at Dolohov. He'd averted his eyes and was studiously avoiding looking at her although he sneered slightly any time he happened to glance in her direction. As she watched him, she noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he hesitantly reached across the table to take the butter she'd just finished using.

She picked up the dish and handed it to him with a sweet smile. "Here," she murmured, deliberately letting her fingers brush against his and smirking as he flinched away from the touch. She looked over at Tom who had watched the entire exchange curiously, feeling a sick pit form in her stomach at the satisfaction of being able to scare the Russian wizard simply by brushing her fingers against his innocently.

HG*TR

"When I was 16, Ron started dating a girl in our year… Lavender Brown." Hermione laughed at the grimace on Tom's face. They'd spent the last hour trading stories of their years at Hogwarts across the table and she could feel her apprehension draining away as Tom eased her into his presence. The sensation scared her, but she was so tired of the constant vigilance and worry that she let herself fall, by increments, into the friendly camaraderie he offered her.

"Who names their daughter after two colours?" he asked, "Anything would have been better than Lavender."

Hermione snickered. "Yes, well that was her name," she said, "They used to eat each others' faces off in the most graphic public displays. And I was so jealous. I'd had a crush on Ron since 5th year – which he never reciprocated – and one day I couldn't take it anymore so I cursed him. I conjured a flock of birds and set them on him." She smirked at Tom as he chuckled, cold tea and the remains of their breakfast lying forgotten between them on the table.

"I can't imagine anyone passing you over for someone else. Especially some chit unlucky enough to be named after two colours," he said, "Brilliant girl. I wish I'd been there to see that." _I wish I'd been there to claim you_ , hung in the air between the two of them in the awkward silence that followed.

HG*TR

 **(For PinkSlytherin, who I haven't thanked for the reviews yet – but** _ **thank you**_ **all the same. As requested, some Abraxas and Hermione bonding time.)**

She slumped next to Abraxas on the love seat in the sitting room she'd appeared in about a month ago. "Tom is infuriating," she mumbled as she leaned against the young man who'd become like a brother to her in that same amount of time. She may not have liked his son or grandson but she liked Abraxas. Had come to care for him as he mediated the multiple little squabbles she and Tom had on a daily basis.

"What did he do now?" Abraxas sighed, looping an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, and she exhaled noisily.

" _Nothing,_ " she muttered.

Abraxas chuckled and shifted so he could see her face more clearly. She grimaced and he pulled a loose curl playfully. "He must've done _something_ ," Abraxas said, "Or you wouldn't be here griping about him to me."

She shrugged and looked down at her hands as they teased the hem of her dress. Abraxas' hand closed over hers, stilling her fidgeting and she looked back up at him nervously. "I'm having a hard time reconciling the monster I knew with the man I'm getting to know," she mumbled, her eyes sliding shut as she admitted to what was bothering her. It was true too. She could fall into the comfortable rapport Tom offered so easily, forgetting who he'd been – be – in her past, his future.

When Abraxas didn't say anything, she continued hesitantly. "It scares me how much I _like_ him," she whispered, "We'll be debating house-elf rights or exchanging stories about our time at Hogwarts and I can see a _future_ where I'd be happy with him… and then he'll say or do something _off_ and my memories crash in and I remember what he was like… the monster he becomes… and…" Her voice broke as she trailed off, uncomfortably aware that she was confiding in someone who was doggedly loyal to Tom. "I'm sorry," she stammered, rising to her feet, ready to flee back to the rooms she now shared with Tom or to her glade where she practiced wandless magic.

Abraxas grasped her wrist, preventing her escape and pulling her back down to sit beside him on the love seat. "The future isn't fixed," he said after a long moment of silence, "The future you came from… it's gone. Tom… I won't lie and say he doesn't have darkness in him. He does… but he's curbing it… for you."

She shuddered and felt a tear slide down her cheek. "Sometimes I'm afraid he's already on that path… That he'll become a monster despite my efforts," she whispered.

Abraxas stiffened beside her and she tensed and looked at him apprehensively. His eyes were cold as he looked at her. "Tom is _not_ a monster," he hissed, "Fuck, Hermione. Are you constantly going to fall into that pit? Because you won't last long if you do."

"You don't know what it was like," she sobbed, "He was my worst nightmare. My biggest fear. A very _real_ fear. It's not something you get over overnight."

As she broke down, Abraxas deflated and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "You're right," he said, "I _don't_ know. But I do know this: The moment you stop believing in Tom's humanity is the moment he'll lose it forever."

HG*TR

He crept up behind her in the glade she'd claimed and wrapped his arms around her waist even as she jumped in surprise, the wandless magic she'd been working exploding around them.

"Tom!" she gasped, turning in his embrace to make sure it was really him.

"Do it again," he breathed in her ear, "Show me the glorious power at your fingertips."

"I—" she whispered, looking around the clearing where the only evidence of her extraordinary control over her magic were the patches of wet ground where the orbs of water she'd manipulated had splashed when he'd surprised her.

"I know," he said, "I've been watching you for weeks now. Dazzle me, pretty witch. Exert your will on the world so I can bask in your power." When she stared at him, dumbfounded, he released her and bent down to pick a blade of grass and held it up to her. As she reached to take it, it elongated and a flower head swelled up at its top before blooming into the most gorgeous flower she'd ever seen. It had five elongated blood red petals with a deep blue centre and she took it from him with trembling fingers.

"You too?" she whispered and he nodded.

HG*TR

A predatory smirk spilled across Tom's face when he found her in the library. "Pretty witch," he said, drawing Hermione from the book she was reading with a frown, "It's time for a talk."

She sighed but slid a bookmark into the tome to mark her page and set it down on the arm of her chair. "Tom," she said evenly.

"Hermione," he replied, the smirk just a little bit wider.

"What?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Tell me a story," he said.

"About what?" Her frown deepened as he shrugged.

"Anything that strikes your fancy."

HG*TR

Over the next few weeks he found her at least once a day and coaxed stories about her adventures at Hogwarts out of her. At first she was careful to only tell him trivial anecdotes. Stories of the DA, pranks the Weasley twins had pulled, thwarting Umbridge…But as he slowly disassembled her barriers, she found herself telling him things more relevant to the future. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Triwizard Tournament. After each story, Tom would walk away with a thoughtful expression on his face that would cause her a brief moment of anxiety before she pushed it away.

She knew he was manipulating her into telling him about the future. She knew, but she couldn't muster the energy to care anymore. Connla's journal made it explicitly clear that there was no way back to her own time. He'd tried on a number of occasions, if his journal entries were to be believed and all attempts had failed. The journal also made it clear that she could change things without fear of repercussions. But she didn't know how to set about doing that without knowing the details of Tom's plans for world domination, and she wasn't quite ready to broach that topic with him yet.

So she let Tom tease stories out of her, and waited, and watched.

 **A/N: A few brief snippets. My sister has ruined me… She just wrote this amazing short story for her creative writing class and it's all these sweet snippets of romance and a growing relationship and it has me all love-struck and gooey (and in awe. It's some** _ **amazing**_ **writing.) but Tom and Hermione aren't there yet so it's messing with my plot outline…**

 **A/N2: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I am astounded by the response and even though I am behind on responding to reviews, it always makes my day a bit better to get a review from one of you lovely readers. 3**

 **Sending my love,**

 **flames**


	15. Reflecting the Abyss

**Disclaimer: Never mine.**

 **A/N: All you readers are amazing... I was so tempted to post sooner with the response to the last chapter but I am running low on material to share so I had to hold off a couple more days. As it is this is a few hours early because I won't have time to update tomorrow. _Thank you_ though for the reviews. They mean a lot. **

**As a bit of a bonus though... There's a brief (1-200 word) snippet with Hermione and Abraxas in the deleted scenes fic (The Morrigan's Curse: Deleted Scenes) for those of you interested. Also, some scenes with Dolohov and Hermione in the week leading up to the incident in the library will be posted there in a few minutes. Everything can be found on my profile.**

 _Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you._

\- Friedrich Nietzsche

She was in the cavern again. Walls dripped with dark fluid. She shuddered and cowered away from the walls she knew oozed with blood and turned her attention to the split in the cavern just ahead of where she stood. They were empty but that meant nothing. "Come out," she snapped, "I know you're there."

A low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. "Oh Macha," the voice breathed, "Let me _play_." It was nails across chalkboards, and screams of something rent limb from limb, the rasp of the dying.

Hermione forced herself not to cringe and turned around to search for the source of the voice. They were arrayed in the corridor, Macha at the centre and Nemain and Badb to either side. Nemain, who had spoken, salivated at her, rapture in her eyes, fingers stretching toward her, black hair wild. Bellatrix came to mind, and Hermione bit back her scream as a memory of the wild-haired witch carving her arm fluttered in the recesses of her consciousness.

"Nemain," Macha scolded, glaring at her sister, "None of that. We had our fun. It is time to fix some mistakes."

"But _sister_ ," Nemain whined, staring at Hermione with such yearning she couldn't help taking a step backward.

"No," Macha's tone was harsh and she held a hand up to stay any further protests Nemain might make.

"What?" Hermione snarled, "I found the fucking diary. I know you want me to stop the wars and change what happened… What more do you want from me?"

Badb laughed this time and Hermione glared at her. "Such fire," she murmured stepping closer and Hermione cringed back, "You were right Macha. She is perfect."

Macha smiled coldly, watching Badb circle Hermione hungrily. "Yes, well," she murmured, "I usually am."

"What do you want?" Hermione repeated. She tried not to flinch as Badb continued to circle her and Nemain tried to devour her with her eyes. She tried not to be scared of the predatory smile fixed on Macha's face that reminded her so much of Tom.

"You're not doing enough," Macha said finally, "You don't have much time. Dumbledore is moving soon."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, "What does he have to do with any of this?"

"Think, child," Badb mocked her, "What role does the old man play? What does he contribute to the conflict?"

"I… He…" Hermione gasped, flustered, "He fights for the Light. He tried to protect us."

"Did he?" Nemain's voice hissed out and Hermione flinched again.

Macha shrugged and Nemain laughed. "Such fire, but she still doesn't understand. We don't want you to stop the war," Badb tutted, "You can't stop it. There will be war… but the war need not result in a river of blood."

As Hermione opened her mouth to protest, the cavern disappeared and she found herself back at Hogwarts in the midst of battle again. As she slashed down someone who had tried to stun her, she whirled around searching for the Morrigan. She knew they were still watching. She finally spotted the two crows sweeping across the battlefield and the brown wolf cavorting amongst the duelling witches and wizards. She struggled to approach them, fighting her way past Order Members and Death Eaters alike but they seemed to stay just out of reach.

Just as she collapsed from exhaustion at the edge of the battlefield, she looked up and Macha was right there in human form. "Be wary of the abyss," she said, her crone-like body towering over her, "It stares back if you look for too long. And sometimes… it begins to reflect what's under our masks… "

HG*TR

Hermione gasped as she felt gentle hands run down her arms. "Hermione?" Tom whispered in the darkness, "What's wrong?"

She shuddered as she felt tears start to overwhelm her. "I hate them," she whispered, burying her face in his chest. He said nothing, just wrapped an arm around her back, and soothed her back to sleep as he replayed the dream he'd stolen from her mind over and over in his head.

HG*TR

She escaped to her glade as soon as Tom dismissed his followers at breakfast. She felt Tom's eyes follow her, burning into her retreating form, but was grateful when he made no move to follow her. She needed some space after her dream the night before and Tom's presence as she tried to figure out what it meant – why it was important that she had had another dream about the triad goddess – would only fluster her further.

When her toes touched the edge of the grassy lawn, she kicked her kid heels off, and took off across the lawn at a sprint, hair streaming out wildly behind her. She closed her eyes as she ran, focussing on the feel of the wind against her face, the dew-damp grass between her toes, the strain in her muscles as she took one step after another, trying to forget.

She reached the glade all too soon, lungs bursting with exertion. As she caught her breath, she surveyed the small clearing, instantly finding some comfort in the space. It was just so peaceful. A couple of bees buzzed in and out of a bed of yellow lady-slippers, while squirrels scurried across branches overhead.

She sat on the edge of a large rock near the water's edge, just soaking in the sounds and sights while she let herself relax. Only when she was sufficiently calm did she allow her thoughts to turn to her dream the previous night.

She latched on to the mention of Dumbledore almost immediately, not wanting to consider the implications of Badb's warning that there would be war regardless of what she did. Her eyes slid shut, thinking they were probably right. She _wasn't_ moving fast enough. She'd just thought that with how slowly the first war started – Tom as Lord Voldemort didn't really begin to gain momentum until the 1970's – but the foundation for that movement was being laid now and if she wanted to have any influence, she needed to act.

And so, since Tom didn't seem to be plotting anything major, and the Morrigan had seen fit to warn her about Dumbledore, the first issue to address was Dumbledore himself. Much as she'd admired him as a child and teenager, she knew he cared little for the lives he interfered with. _For the greater good_.

She couldn't believe the loss of any life could be for the greater good. Why did Lily and James Potter have to die, leaving Harry to grow up in an abusive home simply because Dumbledore did not feel it necessary to give them all the details of the threat to their lives… And all of the pain and suffering they'd experienced in fifth year simply because Dumbledore didn't feel Harry was _ready_ to hear the truth? If he'd simply told Harry the truth, they wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius wouldn't have died. And speaking of Sirius… why hadn't Dumbledore been able to use his considerable influence on the Wizengamot to retry Sirius' case? Surely Pettigrew wasn't the only piece of evidence they could have used to clear his name?

No. Everything could have been dealt with so much more easily if Dumbledore hadn't kept his secrets so close to his chest, shielding them from everyone else so that no one except him could see anything more than a few pieces of the puzzle.

In the end, she thought, it boiled down to power. Dumbledore had accumulated a wealth of power and he hadn't wanted to relinquish any more of it than he had to. And so, the secrets.

Tom, at least, hadn't hidden that he was out for power. She cringed as she remembered Voldemort telling her just that before she'd been sent back here. If anyone had ever told her that she would agree with something Voldemort had said to her even a month ago…

She sighed, and rubbed her temples trying to ward off the migraine that was building there. She needed a plan because Tom was right, her presence here changed things whether she liked it or not, and he wouldn't be sitting idly by waiting for her to make a move. He'd already implemented some sort of plan of his own. She could sense the threads of it weaving around her and binding her to him all the more tightly than he already had.

HG*TR

Hours later, she'd decided Dumbledore was key. She had no hope of acting against Tom even if she wanted to and she didn't really. She actually _liked_ Tom, as crazy as it sounded, considering her history. Part of it was that he was _trying_ to win her over so he was careful to hide the some of the dark violence under his charming exterior, but the other part was that she _enjoyed_ their conversations. He was able to keep up with her quick mind in a way that Harry and –especially – Ron never had and he challenged her when they argued.

So, in the end, Dumbledore was key. That, and Tom needed to find an alternative to horcruxes for immortality. She made a mental note to check Abraxas' library for other sources of immortality – the Philosopher's Stone and the Deathly Hallows were the first to come to mind but she wanted to cover all her bases before she approached Tom.

Now… Dumbledore. Not only had he been the driving force behind opposition against Tom, but he was also a powerful wizard in his own right. And she needed to destroy him. It was the only way. If Dumbledore didn't oppose Tom, Tom could rally his supporters and take over without strong opposition. And if she could curb some of Tom's more violent tendencies, they could avoid major bloodshed – although if the Morrigan were to be believed, not all of it. She could live with that though, she thought.

It would be hard to discredit Dumbledore though, especially after he defeated Grindelwald… Wait! That was it, Grindelwald, the pillar that was the foundation to Dumbledore's fame and power, hadn't been defeated yet. If she could convince Tom to go after Grindelwald before Dumbledore finally made a move to defeat his ex-lover, then Tom could take the glory and power awarded to him for defeating Grindelwald instead, weakening Dumbledore's grip on Wizarding England

She smiled as she stood up, brushing shredded moss and grass – evidence of her fretting – from her skirt, and made her way back to the manor for lunch slowly.

HG*TR

Abraxas paced the terrace anxiously. Hermione had disappeared after breakfast and no one had seen her since. Tom wasn't helping. When he'd asked, Tom had shrugged and blown it off saying something along the lines that she'd be back when she was ready. Fuck, didn't Tom realize that, despite punishing Dolohov for his misstep a several weeks ago, the less morally inclined members of his cabal were still sniffing around Hermione, just waiting for a moment of weakness? What if McNair had cornered her, or Dolohov had decided to seek retribution? He felt his shoulders sag in relief as he saw her coming up the lawn with an easy smile on her face.

He surged out of the shadows on the terrace as she came up the steps, causing her to jump. "Abraxas," she gasped, clutching her chest.

"Are you ok?" he asked, looking her over with concern. She _looked_ fine but he'd seen her completely fool a room full of Tom's friends into thinking she was completely at ease, only to dissolve with terror behind closed doors later.

She nodded. "Yeah," she replied, "You just scared me. What are you doing out here?"

"I was worried about you," he said, running a hand through his hair anxiously "You disappeared right after breakfast and no one's seen you in hours. When I asked Tom, he just shrugged. I thought… I don't know… Maybe Dolohov had trapped you somewhere, or something."

Hermione sighed and took his arm comfortably, patting it to soothe the agitated blonde wizard. "I'm fine," she said, "I just needed some space. I'm sorry if I worried you."

Abraxas squeezed her arm and she smiled at him. After a moment of silence, she asked the question that he knew she'd ask eventually, but dreaded answering. "Abraxas," she asked, "What did Tom do to Dolohov?"

He stiffened and looked at her worriedly. Tom wouldn't be happy if he shattered the tentative trust Tom had gained from her, and he knew how she felt about Tom's views on obedience and loyalty. "Who says Tom did anything to Dolohov?" he asked, deflecting her question.

"I… Just… before the library… he was an arrogant asshole who liked to follow me around if you or Tom weren't accompanying me. And ever since Tom found out, if he sees me alone he'll turn white and practically run in the opposite direction. I mean, I don't miss him harassing me… but it just seems odd that it coincided with Tom finding out."

Abraxas sighed heavily. "You really shouldn't ask questions you don't want to know that answer to," he said.

"So he did torture Dolohov?" she pressed. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he nodded and she sighed. "Well, I guess I'm not surprised," she grimaced, "I wish he hadn't but… well, it's nice Dolohov's not following me around anymore."

"He was following you before the library?" Abraxas snapped, her words about Dolohov's persistence finally sinking in. An icy pit formed in his stomach as he gripped her shoulders tightly. He remembered the few times she'd gone back to her rooms to rest, or he'd left her to go do some business for Tom. Afterward, she'd always seemed slightly shaken. He'd assumed that was because she'd had another argument with Tom, but maybe it was because she'd been sneaking out of the manor to explore the grounds and kept encountering Dolohov. She flinched slightly at his tight grip and tried to move away from him but he refused to release her.

"Well… yes," she said, "Abraxas, it's really not that serious. I'd always bump into him in the gardens when I first arrived here… Nothing ever happened beyond him insinuating that I was a whore or something. Oh, and him torturing that poor cat."

He swore under his breath and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Fuck," she muttered, "That's a big deal, huh?"

"Hermione, you spent time alone with a man who wasn't your intended or a relative," Abraxas hissed, " _Yes_ , it's a big deal. Not least because Dolohov cornered you and probably would have assaulted you if I hadn't arrived in the library on time."

"I'm sorry," she said. She pressed herself closer to him as his grip on her shoulders relaxed. He pulled her closer and she sighed. "I don't get all these pureblood customs. I was Muggleborn… Muggles discarded most of these traditions and rules a long time ago – and blood prejudice was such that it didn't matter if I didn't know them when I was in school because the likelihood of one—" Abraxas pressed a hand to her mouth to stop her babbling.

"It's fine," he said, "You're right. You didn't know. You couldn't have known. Dolohov is too scared to make a fuss anyway and Tom gagged him just to be safe. Just… tell Tom. If he finds out and you haven't told him, it'll look like you're keeping secrets from him and…"

"You don't want me to get hurt," she said, cutting off whatever else he was going to say.

Stunned, he just stared at her for a moment. "Yes," he said, "Exactly." She smiled at him and took his proffered arm so they could go in to lunch.

HG*TR

"Dumbledore?" Tom queried lazily from where he was draped across the couch in his suite. Hermione glanced up from the book she was perusing in the armchair she'd spent her first night in 1946 and grimaced. Of course, he'd bring Dumbledore up only hours after another disturbing dream starring her favorite goddess and her subsequent contemplation of Dumbledore's role in the wars.

"What about him?" she sighed, closing her book for what would be the thousandth iteration of their ongoing not-quite conversation about future events since Tom had retrieved her from the end of the Manor's driveway some weeks ago. They both skirted around the knowledge that she had been sent here so that nothing that had happened to in her childhood would happen again, wisely perhaps, because neither of them wanted to think about the future they were cautiously avoiding.

Today, everything was a bit too clear, a bit too sharp after her dream last night. Dumbledore had been on her mind all morning. All of her doubts crowding her brain, and taunting her. She wanted to believe in Dumbledore's geniality. She wanted to believe he'd only ever had Harry's or the rest of the Wizarding World's best interests at heart. She didn't know if she could any more after last night.

"What do you think of him?" he asked, watching her bite her lip uncertainly. This was the closest Tom had come to directly asking her about her past and his future, since there was no doubt in her mind that Dumbledore had pulled strings of all the major players in both wars, manipulating them like the puppets he seemed to think they were.

Her eyes rested on Tom speculatively, weighing his motives, and finally she sighed and twisted so she could lean her head back against the armrest of her chair to look at him upside down. Tom laughed and stood up to come closer to her. He knelt by her head and tapped her nose with a finger. She giggled at the gesture and swatted at him half-heartedly. "Please?" he pleaded uncharacteristically, and for a moment all she could do was stare at him in shock, "You said he's the one who discovers my horcruxes, and I can't imagine that meddling fool standing by and letting events play out without interference. What role does he play?"

She sighed and slid off the chair. "If you're going to make me talk about Dumbledore, you'd better get me some tea. Or stronger…"

"As my lady commands," Tom teased, tugging her over to the couch he'd vacated and settling her into it before he clapped his hands, calling for one of the house elves. "Tea for two, please," he requested of the elf that appeared, "And firewhiskey." He smirked at Hermione's grimace. They'd had a rather heated discussion about elf rights shortly after their first breakfast together, which, to her consternation, he'd won. Now, instead of protesting when he ordered one around, she pretended it hadn't happened, much to his amusement.

A few minutes later, as he handed her a mug of tea with a dash of firewhiskey in it and he settled beside her on the couch, he prompted her again. "So, Dumbledore?"

She sighed and took a large sip of the tea. She stared at the golden liquid steaming just inside the rim of the mug and thought about what she should say about Dumbledore. "I always admired Dumbledore when he was alive," she said, and paused, waiting for Tom's inevitable snort of derision. "I did," she insisted, "When I found out I was a witch, I read everything I could get my hands on about the wizarding world. I read about blood prejudice, and Grindelwald, and your first rise to power, and the terror and fear that followed those _unfortunate_ enough to be born to muggle parents. And everything I read applauded Dumbledore as a hero, an icon advocating equality and justice and peace…"

"But…" Tom trailed off expectantly watching her meticulously sip her tea.

" _But,_ " she said, "I never understood some of the decisions he made, especially with regard to Harry, over the years." She was silent for a long moment and Tom twitched with impatience beside her but didn't push.

"Harry spent the first eleven years of his life living in a cupboard under the stairs because of Dumbledore," she blurted out eventually and Tom stilled beside her.

He knew by now the role Harry had played in defeating him in his first rise to power, and the fame attached to the babe, and how much the boy had hated it. He found it hard to believe that the babe lauded as a hero for defeating him had been put into a home situation where he could be neglected or abused, but apparently he had.

"His Aunt and Uncle… they abused him verbally… and possibly physically, although I never found definitive proof whether that was the case. And Dumbledore knew but he never did anything to rectify it."

Tom was silent and she turned toward him, the motion pressing her body more closely to his as she looked deeply into his eyes. "What sort of person _does_ that?" she whispered, "Lets the abuse continue to happen for ' _the greater good'_?" The words had a mocking edge to them, like she was quoting something repeated to her many times. Something ingrained in her beliefs that she didn't quite believe anymore. Hearing that tone, Tom smiled slightly. So there might yet be hope of corrupting her, he thought quietly to himself, watching her worry at her bottom lip with her teeth.

She continued softly, "In the muggle world, someone who knows about an abusive situation but does nothing… they're not considered any better that the abuser."

"The greater good," Tom mused, "That was Grindelwald's motto, wasn't it?"

She shrugged. "I guess. They were lovers, you know. Dumbledore and Grindelwald. They developed a lot of Grindelwald's ideology together the summer after they graduated."

Tom gaped at her. "What?" he wheezed, "Dumbledore's—"

Hermione sighed. "That's what you want to take away from this?" she asked incredulously, and Tom looked at her with wide eyes. She sighed again. "Yes. Ok. Just… yes. This horrible reporter, Rita Skeeter, writes a book that outs him after he dies. But really, it makes sense when you think about how Dumbledore defeats Grindelwald simply by _disarming_ him. How else would he have gotten so close without putting Grindelwald on guard if they hadn't been close at one point?"

"Dumbledore _defeats_ _Grindelwald_?" Tom sputtered.

Hermione huffed. "He enables neglect and abuse; no problem. But it comes out he's gay and defeats Grindelwald and you can't believe it?"

Tom chuckled. "He knew all about how I was neglected at the orphanage and never lifted a finger, Hermione. I'm not surprised," he murmured. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side as she huffed again.

"I'm sorry," she said after a long moment, "I never thought. Orphanages aren't particularly pleasant places even in my time but in the 1930's and earlier…"

Tom shrugged. "It's not something I dwell on that much. Bygones and bygones, and all that."

She twisted within the arm he'd wrapped around her so she could regard him. "Are they really?" she murmured, noting the scowl lurking under the surface of his calm mask. He shrugged, and they fell into a long semi-uncomfortable silence.

Eventually she spoke again. "I think, the worst part…" She whispered as Tom glanced at her expectantly, "He let children fight the war for him. I mean he died before the fighting really started again… but he still planned everything so that, in the end, it was children who fought and killed and died. Children who were responsible for defeating the threat. And we didn't really know anything, Tom. We almost _died_ so many times…" He tightened his arm around her shoulders and they finished the rest of their tea in silence, pondering the folly of an old man who thought he knew everything and sent children off to be slaughtered in a war that should have never happened. Would never happen now, if either of them had any say in it.

 **A/N: The one to be wary that he does not become a monster is, of course, Dumbledore, for fear that his inner faults are reflected back and magnified from the abyss. Because I have plans for him…**

 **On a side note… I know that in canon Dumbledore defeats Grindelwald in 1945 and this takes place in 1946 BUT for the purposes of my plot Dumbledore can't have defeated Grindelwald yet, so he hasn't.**

 **I'm so glad everyone liked the last chapter… I was _very_** **nervous about it and you all put me at ease with your amazing support. Thank you everyone for the reviews, I cherish every single one.**

 **For my anonymous Guest Reviewers, Laylanicolepatte, & Misslunalovegood: Thank you for reviewing. It means a lot.**

 **For Sarah: Thank you. I hope this week is going better for you than the last one.**

 **Sending love,**

 **flames**


	16. Plotting New Directions

**Disclaimer: You know… not mine, no profit (except your reviews of course!), etc., etc.**

 **A/N: I know I said Friday but I have had an incredibly busy week. Yesterday I honestly thought it should be Friday already… Today felt like Saturday despite working all day. And it's only Wednesday… So, to make me feel better and to hopefully brighten your weeks, here's an early update. I might update Friday or Saturday as well. We'll see if I can manage to crank out another chapter by then. If you want to make my week better, please review (They make me feel all warm inside). :)**

 _Nothing erases the immoral act. Not forgiveness. Not confession. And even if the act could be forgiven, no one could bear the responsibility of forgiveness on behalf of the dead. Not act of violence is ever resolved when the one who can forgive can no longer speak; there is only silence._

\- _Fugitive Pieces_ , Anne Michaels

"No more horcruxes," Hermione said a few days later, her mouth braced in a thin line. Tom's mouth crooked in amusement at her tone.

"Oh?" he asked, raising a thin eyebrow at her incredulously.

She shivered at the look designed to intimidate her, but pushed on stubbornly. "They're a bad idea," she said, "Dangerous, and there's the unfortunate side effect of causing you to go insane if you make too many."

"Are you suggesting I made an error when I made my horcruxes?" The edge to his voice quiet but present and she flinched at the tone. He shifted his position on the couch they were lounging on in the library so he could watch her more easily. Her face was pinched but determined, and if he hadn't been annoyed because she'd just questioned his judgement, he might have chuckled at how afraid she was of his reaction.

" _Yes_ ," she hissed as he reached over to twist her face toward his painfully, "Immortality is not worth it if you're not sane to enjoy it. Plus, you're too dependent on the objects you use. You can still die."

"Yes," he murmured as he released her chin and brushed a finger across her cheek tenderly, "But only if someone finds out and starts destroying them. I don't intend for them to be found, Hermione."

Her lips thinned and she looked at him levelly. "Someone will," she said, "Maybe not Dumbledore this time, but someone. And they'll start targeting them quietly where they're hidden, and you'll have forgotten to check on them as often as you should, and, by the time they've been destroyed it will be too late, and you'll be mortal."

"And insane," he said, with a slight smile, and watched with satisfaction as she relaxed with it. He brushed a hand over her shoulder and down her arm, enjoying how she shivered under the touch. A month ago that shiver would have been fear. Now, he wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it wasn't fear anymore, and the thought made him smile wider.

"And insane," she agreed, her lips quirking at him.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What would you suggest then, love?" he asked and watched as she tensed up again at the use of the pet name. He only called her _love_ if he was irritated or annoyed and they'd had enough arguments and disagreements over the last two months that ended _unpleasantly_ that neither wanted another one. It was so much easier to bend slightly. And if she was the one who bent more... all the better.

"I don't know, Tom," she said, "I haven't found anything else that would be suitably impressive for you yet."

"But you have thought about it?" he murmured, watching her closely. He brushed a strand of hair that had escaped the simple bun she'd put her hair up in, and let his hand linger in her hair, gently playing with it. She swallowed, looking down at the Gaunt ring on his finger.

"Yes," she said. He smirked at her. Of course she had. The clever bookworm never suggested anything to him without researching it thoroughly first.

"And?" he prompted her.

She inhaled sharply as his fingers wandered from her hair to her cheek. "And," she gasped as he fought the urge to chuckle at her reaction, "I decided the Philosopher's stone won't work. There's only one currently in existence and you'd have to steal it first. But also, you would hate being dependent on the stone for eternal life."

"True," he murmured, "Plus, Flamel and Dumbledore are friends, which makes it that much more difficult to acquire it without tipping Dumbledore off to our plans. What else?" She shivered as he said _our_ and he smiled even as his fingers continued to trace the curves of her face. It was progress even as she unconsciously continued to resist him, but her attempts were becoming weaker as he carefully dismantled her walls and built her trust in him. Eventually she would submit to him without question and there would be no return. She'd be tied to him irrevocably. His forever.

"I discarded the Golden apples of the Norse gods and the Greek gods' ambrosia for the same reason, plus I don't know how much truth there is in the myths even though we have some proof there is a grain of truth within them… The Chinese believed in peaches of immortality which only ripen every 3000 years. One peach grants the consumer a thousand years of life."

"Which is not immortality," Tom murmured.

"No," she agreed smiling at him. He let his fingers graze her neck and shoulder before he let his hand drop to his side again. Her breathing hitched slightly and a light blush spread across her face as he smirked at her. She shook her head to clear it before she continued.

"There are some spells and rituals that claim to grant immortality in a few of the less savoury books in Abraxas' library," she murmured, leaning forward as though searching for the feel of his fingers on her face, "But no proof that they would work. If you wanted to go that route you would probably want to test it on someone else first…"

"Who I would then be unable to kill," Tom said quietly, "Not exactly appealing if they decide to interfere with my plans later."

She stared at him solemnly and shrugged. "Oh yes," she said wryly, "We wouldn't want to mess up your plans for world domination." She relaxed as Tom's eyes glittered with amusement before she continued. "There is a plant in Sumerian mythology that is thought to grant whoever eats it immortality. But the plant isn't identified in any text I've read and Gilgamesh, the hero searching for the plant, never achieved immortality because, once he found it, a snake stole it from him."

Tom smiled charmingly at her. "Another dead end," he sighed dramatically, teasing her, and her eyes sparkled at him with supressed laughter.

"Precisely," she laughed, "You could always eat ningyo. I understand that is supposed to grant immortality but we would have to first find someone who had already consumed it to confirm the myth, and then hunt one down."

"What's a ningyo?" Tom asked curiously.

"A Japanese mermaid," she said, "That tastes delicious and grants the consumer eternal life apparently. You're cursed, of course, upon consuming the flesh… but from what I've read the curse _is_ immortality so since that is the ultimate goal it hardly seems like a curse now does it?"

Tom laughed at that. "Where do you come up with all this?" he asked in awe.

She shrugged indifferently. "Books," she said simply, "They surprise you with their secrets sometimes." He was startled into laughter again and she grinned at him.

"What else, pretty witch?" he said, "What other roads to immortality do you have to regale me with?"

She hesitated at that and bit her lip, causing him to straighten up on the couch and eye her hungrily. "What?" he said, reaching between them and beginning to draw patterns on the sleeves of her dress, "What else, Hermione?"

She swallowed. "There's… there's the Deathly Hallows…" she whispered, looking at her lap uncomfortably. "You look for, and obtain, one in the future…"

"The Deathly Hallows? The same as the ones in A Tale of Three Brothers?" Tom asked, leaning forward, his fingers stilling on her arm.

"Yes," she said, "Possessing all of them is supposed to make their bearer Master of Death."

"Mmm," he murmured, leaning forward so his nose brushed her collarbone. He smiled at the sharp intake of breath. "I like the sound of that."

"I thought you would," she muttered unsteadily, shifting away from him uncomfortably. He smiled again. She wasn't quite there yet but she would be. He pulled back and saw the conflicting desires on her face with satisfaction. Yes, she would be soon.

"You wouldn't happen to know where these Hallows are, would you?" he murmured, leaning forward again and inhaling her scent of parchment and raspberries. This time she shifted but didn't pull away and he smiled against her skin.

"I do," she said shakily, "You're wearing one."

HG*TR

He didn't quite believe her. Oh, he thought that she believed she was telling the truth because she knew better than to try lying to him by now, but he didn't believe what she told him was actually true. How could he have been in possession of such a powerful magical artifact and be unaware of the fact? He _collected_ important magical artifacts, so the thought that one might have come into his possession without him ever knowing was irritating to him.

Of course, if it was true, it meant that he had one third of the set and an inkling that Hermione knew – at least roughly – where the other two were. And he wanted to possess them even if the story of the three brothers wasn't true and possessing all three didn't make one the Master of Death. Because even if they only did half of what the children's bedtime story and Hermione said they did, they would still be valuable tools.

He realized he'd been deep in thought for a long time when Hermione shifted against him and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Tom?" she whispered, "I need to tell you something."

He grunted and turned to look at her. "Yes?" he asked. When she just fidgeted, he sighed and closed a hand over hers to still it.

She sighed as well and looked at him. "When I'm from," she started, "the rules regarding courtship and such, are very relaxed, especially in the muggle world where I grew up."

Tom raised a brow at her, wondering where she was going with this. He'd claimed her as his own but they weren't exactly courting per se. He'd been waiting for the time when she could look past his darkness to close in, content for the moment to let her adjust and become comfortable with the climate of the world she'd dropped into. "Yes," he said, "I know."

"So," she hedged, "It didn't occur to me to tell you right away when Dolohov was following me around." Tom swore and she flinched. He couldn't believe that even after what he and Abraxas had done to warn the Russian wizard off, he was still pursuing her.

"What has the bastard done now?" he snapped, running a hand though his hair angrily and wondering why he hadn't killed the Russian weeks ago.

"Nothing," Hermione protested, and Tom relaxed slightly with the reassurance but remained wary as to why she'd be bringing this up now. "Not since you _punished_ him." The revelation that she knew what he'd done to Dolohov in retaliation for his treatment of her gave him pause and he blinked at her.

"You know?" he sputtered. He watched her carefully, waiting for her to distance herself from him but she remained exactly where she was, no change to her demeanor.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Of course I bloody well know," she snapped, "One moment the bastard is cornering me anywhere he can get me alone and the next he can't even look at me with turning white. And this transformation just coincidentally occurs after you find out about the incident in the library and my history with him? I'm not thick Tom. I've known for weeks but Abraxas kindly confirmed it for me earlier."

"And you're not angry?" he asked hesitantly, shocked that she seemed so calm about it.

She rolled her eyes violently. "Of course I'm angry," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "The fact that you even think that's a _healthy_ response… Honestly! But I'm not foolish enough to believe that being angry with you is going to change anything and I'd rather not get into an argument with you right now." Tom chuckled at her outburst and she gazed at him inscrutably.

He reached out to stroke her jaw and she leaned into the touch slightly, causing him to smile in response. "What?" he whispered.

"Thank you," she whispered, "I'm glad he's not following me anymore. So, thank you."

HG*TR

A few days later he went looking for her after dinner. She often disappeared down to her glade after meals and this evening was no exception. He went with her occasionally, but usually left her alone knowing she needed some space to call her own. He'd also discovered it was easier to get useful information out of her after she'd had a chance to cool her heels by the duck pond, which made him more amenable to the idea of her spending time alone.

But she'd disappeared hours ago, now, and it was getting dark. Normally she was back within an hour or two and as the hours dragged on he became uneasy so he'd decided to go searching for her.

As he entered her glade, she turned to smile at him before turning back to the magic she was wielding. Her usual orbs of water twinkled from low-hanging branches swirling in intricate patterns around the glade. They shimmered and slowly shifted from glowing yellow to green, to purple… Small silver fish were suspended in the water orbs tonight as well, an addition from the last time he'd joined her. Their scales reflected flickers of iridescence off leaves and the still pond surface.

Conjured birds flitted and chirruped from the trees as well. He whistled a low tune and smiled as one flew from a branch to his raised finger. It chirped a song at him and he laughed, startling it away.

He watched as Hermione finished the manipulation she'd started. She'd taken one of her orbs and was shaping it into a lily. A shoot shot off the orb, elongating and then the tip split into five elongated petals, blooming perfectly. He chuckled as her brow scrunched and he gaped with awe as she transformed the fluid blossom into sharp-edged glass, the petals blushing with colour. The manipulation alone was impressive, but transmuting that into another substance even as she held the shape in place was overwhelming. She was getting better the more she practiced wandless magic; another reason he let her come out here alone. He intended to harness that finesse in his crusade.

"Impressive," he said, watching as she blushed at the praise.

"Thank you," she murmured, "I didn't expect to see you out here tonight."

He shrugged. "You've been out here for hours, pretty witch. I got worried when night fell and you didn't come inside."

She blinked and seemed to realize it was dark for the first time. "I hadn't realized," she said, waving a hand and banishing all evidence of her castings except for the flower she'd created. The glade fell into complete darkness and he felt her hand take his arm. "So, you came to escort me back?"

"Something like that," he said, clasping her hand and turning her so they were headed back to the Manor. They walked in silence for a minute or so until they broke the tree cover. Tom stopped as Hermione looked up at the stars. She tensed as she searched for something and he felt her entire body grow tenser and tenser the longer she looked.

"What, pretty witch?" he whispered in her ear.

"I—" she started and then relaxed against him as she raised a hand to point at a line of three stars directly above them. "I couldn't see Orion for a moment," she whispered, "Dad had a friend named Brian when I was little and when he was trying to teach me constellations he used to point to Orion's belt and say 'Look sweetie, it's Brian Orion's belt.'"

Tom remained silent and she turned to look at him. "Being able to find Orion, makes it feel like he's still here with me. Like I've come home because it's like he's there, over my shoulder pointing it out and whispering in my ear."

"That's a charming story," Tom said awkwardly as he squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Uncomfortably he cleared his throat and asked, "Is Orion your favorite constellation?"

She shook her head. "No, it's the one that makes me think of home though, even if I'm not there. I used to look out the window at Hogwarts and find Orion on the nights I couldn't sleep because I was homesick. Pleiades is my favorite. It's too late in the year for her though. She's only visible between October and April."

"Oh," Tom said. He didn't know how to respond to that and they settled into an uneasy silence.

After a long moment of silence, she turned to him abruptly and he raised a slender eyebrow at the hesitant, almost fearful expression on her face that he hadn't seen for a week or longer. "What?" he asked, when she shook her head slightly and started to turn away. He grabbed her arm to halt her retreat and she stuttered to a stop, half-turning back to him.

"I don't know if I can forgive him," she whispered, toying with the hem of her dress the way she did when she was nervous about how she thought he'd react.

"Who?" he laughed, reaching out and stilling her hands, "Dumbledore?" They'd talked at length of Dumbledore's role in her past, his future, and decided his role in the events that played out in her version of the future was inexcusable. A powerful wizard using children as soldiers? Why couldn't he fight his own battles?

She shook her head and scuffed the ground with her toe. "Hermione," he said, an edge entering his voice. He didn't like being toyed with. Something she'd learned over the past few months as a sort of tentative friendship budded between the two.

"I… don't know if I can forgive him… you… future you…" she mumbled, "All the things that happened to me… to my friends." She finally looked up to meet his eyes and flinched at the anger and hurt that was reflected there. He dropped her arm as though burned and recoiled from her.

"Tom…" she whispered.

"Save it, Hermione. I thought we were past all that," he snapped beginning to walk away, before he was drawn up short as she grabbed his sleeve, " _Hermione._ "

" _No,_ " she snarled, "Let me finish." He bristled but raised an eyebrow, waiting. "It wasn't you. I understand that now. He was you, but you aren't him." He relaxed slightly at the admission but remained tense, waiting for what was coming. "I know it never happened. Not yet. Not ever. But it feels like it did. To me." Tears pricked her eyes and he felt himself softening despite himself.

"Nothing can erase my memories of what happened," she continued hoarsely, "But nothing can be resolved or forgiven either. I… just want closure, you know." She wrapped her arms around herself and he found himself tugging her in for a hug. "And since you're the closest thing to him that still exists… I want to tell you. I may never be able to forgive him, but I want you to know that you _aren't_ him and that I believe you'll never be him. And I know we got off on the wrong foot, but you mean a lot to me. Ok?"

He felt his throat tighten with his words, with the implications of those words. She was the only person who liked him for who he was, _despite_ who he was. He pulled back slightly from their embrace and she looked up startled. The tilt of her chin was just right as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers softly. She froze and he started to jerk back, afraid he'd overstepped, but she stopped him by pressing a hand to his cheek.

" _Yes,_ " she whispered, as she lifted herself up on tiptoes and pressed her lips back to his hungrily.

 **A/N: Our bookworm's morals are starting to get twisted. Tom's a bad role-model… I know everything's going smoothly for them right now. Lemons are on the horizon however…**

 **There were a couple of requests for specific scenes (You know who you are – and** _ **Thank you**_ **because y'all gave me a new twist to introduce** **). I will work them in in a couple chapters.**

 **The scene with the constellations is a reflection on my childhood and learning how to find Orion because that is** _ **exactly**_ **how my dad taught my sister and I how to recognize the constellation (and Brian** _ **never**_ **lost the unintentional nickname that developed as a result. He is Brian Orion to me and my sister this day…). Pleiades (the seven sisters) on the other hand is** _ **not**_ **my favourite constellation (that would be the asterism, Orion's belt, aka the three sisters) but my sister's favorite is Pleiades (it forever amuses me that both our favorite constellations have "sisters" in them… it's cute. :P)**

 **All of the items that Hermione lists as potential sources of immortality are taken from various mythologies (with the exception of the Deathly Hallows, obviously). My main source, as always, is some version or another of Wikipedia.**

 **A/N2: Thanks to all my reviewers – PinkSlytherin, franchessybee, Lady Evora, lexicon63738, GoldDust7501, Sarah, beestung2025, Amelia Vaughn, Beetle126, skyrosediamond, Blink22, Yuuki Kuchiki, Mirlanthiriel, Akajo, Gullb3rg, Jess6800 and multiple guest reviewers. Your reviews make my day and inspire me to write more!**

 **Sarah – I'm so glad I can provide you with some entertainment and I hope you feel better!**

 **Love,**

 **flames**


	17. Verifying Truths

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except maybe the plot.**

 **A/N: Hello lovelies! I hope those of you in the US had/are having a great Thanksgiving! Personally, I'm preparing for an early Christmas celebration with my family after a very long and busy week. I managed to finish this though, so that's something…**

 **A/N2: Thank you to everyone for the reviews last chapter. They were just what I needed to get through the rest of the week.**

 _It's one thing to make war for your country, your family, even in pursuit of glory. It's another to believe that the people you fight are embodiments of evil and must be destroyed for that_

\- _Lions of Al Rassan_ , Guy Gavriel Kay

Tom examined the small stone on his ring closely. If Hermione was right, the innocuous black rock with the strange symbol carved into it was a powerful magical artifact. He sucked in a deep breath as he pulled the ring off his finger, turned it over three times, and watched as a wraithlike woman took shape in front of him.

" _Tom_ ," she breathed, and Tom almost dropped the ring in shock. He looked down at the innocuous stone in disbelief and then up at the black-haired woman with pale blue eyes.

"Merope Gaunt?" he asked.

"Riddle," she corrected him, "It was Riddle."

"Yes," he said, walking around her translucent form critically, "Riddle. He was a rich snob. Not especially brave though. He snivelled and begged for mercy before I let him die. I don't know what you saw in him." Rags hung off her thin frame, and she trembled indignantly with his assessment of his father. Her hair was black and straight and hung in dirty strings down her back to her waist. Tom felt his disgust for his parents growing as he took in the ragged form trembling before him. His father, the upper-class muggle snob he'd killed upon graduating Hogwarts, and his mother, the pureblood, weak, downtrodden wretch standing before him.

"He was a good man," she whispered, "If I hadn't…"

"Hadn't deceived him?" Tom snapped, "Hadn't drugged him with a love potion which you later stopped administering? What? What would have happened, Merope?" She flinched away at his tone.

"You have no idea what it was like for me as a child," she whispered, "No prospects… beaten by my father and brother. Tom was the only person to ever show me any measure of kindness." Her hand reached up as though to touch him even though they both knew she couldn't. Tom cringed to avoid the gesture anyway and she let the hand fall to her side limply. "My sweet, sweet boy. So like your father…"

Tom sneered at the comparison to his father and tried to supress the building rage that threatened to burst from his control. "And when he left you, pregnant and dying?" Tom hissed, "What then?" She shrugged and he exploded in rage. Leaves and twigs whirled around him. "You abandoned me to grow up in a filthy, muggle orphanage where I was bullied for being different until I learned how to fight back. The only thing I will _ever_ thank you for is my magic. _Nothing_ else." He watched his mother crumple with satisfaction and banished her echo with another thought. Then, as the wind died down and leaves and twigs began to settle, he knelt on the ground and let his emotions overtake him.

HG*TR

 **(Akajo, you'll find part of your request at the end of this scene)**

Abraxas cornered her one afternoon after Tom had gone off on some errand he had to run. She thought it had to do with tracking down one of the other two Hallows but he hadn't said before he left so she didn't know. She also thought it might have something to with their kiss the night before. Her fingers pressed against her lips as she remembered the feel of his lips against hers. "Hey," Abraxas said, and she looked up from her book blinking owlishly at him.

"Abraxas," she said softly, smiling up at him. She glanced back down at her book, scanning the last part of her page – something about ningyos and the full moon – before she snapped it shut definitively. She glanced back up at him and shifted on the couch she was resting on to make room for him.

"It's been a while," he said as he sat beside her.

Her brow furrowed trying to remember the last meaningful conversation they'd had alone and coming up blank. Certainly, not since their conversation on the terrace a week ago. "It has," she agreed with some surprise, "Tom—"

"Has been in a surprisingly good mood recently," Abraxas said, "Thanks to you."

She flushed as shook her head in denial. "I'm sure—"

"Hermione," Abraxas murmured cutting off her protests, "He's changing. For the better. And it's thanks to you."

"I'm not sure what I've done," she whispered, still wary of the consequences of changing timelines, perfectly aware that she was in over her head. Her lips tingled with the memory of the previous night. Tom's lips pressed to hers gently, tentatively, unsure of her reaction but testing the waters anyway. And she'd kissed him back. She wasn't sure what to think about that.

"Does it matter?" Abraxas said, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently, "You just had to be here."

"I still don't understand…" she mumbled, looking down on their intertwined hands with a furrowed brow. Would Tom think of this as a betrayal if he walked in right now? What did last night mean for their relationship? She knew he'd been circling her for a while. He had laid a claim on her so no one else would try to seduce her.

"It doesn't matter," Abraxas repeated, "I… just… Thank you." She looked up into his grey eyes in surprise. He grimaced and picked up her other hand so he held both. "Before you arrived… the plans were… dark. And I still would have followed him anywhere because I can recognize that he's going places and no one has ever said the Malfoys don't gravitate toward power…. But… Since you've arrived… they've been tempered. Less fire and brimstone, and more backroom politics. And while I would have sold my soul to Tom if he asked, I didn't really want to wage a war… and now I don't because you're here."

She felt tears burn in her eyes because she had lived through the war he spoke of. Lived through it only to end up here in her enemy's lap before any of it happened. Abraxas brushed a tear away from her eyes gently. "I know," he whispered and she leaned into his embrace, trying to draw comfort from it, but her thoughts kept racing. The kiss, Tom, Abraxas…

"Tom kissed me," Hermione mumbled after a long silence, unable to keep it to herself. The implications of that kiss had turned over in her head all night and she'd barely slept as a result. Neither of them had been able to look the other in the eye afterward and their normal routine for bed had been awkward once they returned to their rooms. Tom had slipped off during one of her fitful bursts of sleep closer to dawn and she hadn't seen him since so she didn't know where they stood or how she felt about any of it.

She closed her eyes as Abraxas turned toward her, his eyes wide. "He what?" he sputtered.

"He kissed me," she said, "Last night." Tears burned her eyes as Abraxas abruptly distanced himself, grimacing apologetically.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, reaching toward her and stopping as he saw the hurt flash through her eyes. "I'm sorry but Tom is possessive. It's not safe for you… or me…"

"If not you, then who?" she whispered, "Abraxas, you're the closest thing I have to family here. The closest thing I have to a friend, and I can't do this alone."

Abraxas' eyes closed as he felt the blade in his heart twist at her words. She was alone. "I don't think you realize the implications of—"

Hermione cut him off, her eyes flashing dangerously. "What?" she snapped, "A kiss? Tom is _not_ my keeper." She ignored the thought that he might as well be, as she continued. "Even if he was…" she said, her voice breaking a bit at the admission, "Even if he was, he promised me a confidante."

Abraxas sighed. "Hermione," he said flatly, "Tom doesn't share."

"I know that," she whispered, "Perhaps better than anyone." He flinched and opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off before he could speak. "Tom knows our friendship is completely platonic. I asked him for a confidante and he gave me one," she said solemnly, "You're the only other person who knows everything about how I came to be here. The only person I can be myself around. Abraxas, please don't isolate me more than I already am. Tom might just drive me crazy if you do."

Abraxas opened his eyes and shifted on the couch so their bodies were touching again. "You're asking me to fight for you," he said, even as he wrapped his arm around her again.

She chuckled and rested her cheek against his chest. "No, I'm asking you to let me fight for you," she said.

Abraxas sighed and squeezed her shoulders. "As long as it's your head," he teased.

"Good," she breathed with relief.

"So," Abraxas said, "This kiss… Everything with Tom… How are you holding up?"

Her breath rasped out of her shakily. "I don't know," she said, "I really don't know."

"Do you like him, Hermione?" Abraxas asked seriously, "Because Tom has his sights set on you. The moment you reciprocate anything there will be no turning back. You'll either be with him or you'll be dead because it's guaranteed Tom would rather kill you than let you be with anyone else."

"Was there ever a choice?" she rasped, "The moment I landed in that sitting room my fate was sealed. I don't even know whether I'm blessed or cursed that Tom decided he'd rather have me alive than dead."

"Blessed, I'd say. You landed yourself a handsome devil like me as a cousin," Abraxas said, trying to coax a smile out of her. It worked as her lips quirked at him slightly.

"I like him… I _wanted him to kiss me_ …" she said eventually, answering his question from earlier "But I'm scared of the darkness that I know is inside him. I scared I'll be consumed by it."

There was a dark edge to the sad smile Abraxas gave her as he squeezed her gently. "There's darkness in all of us," he murmured, "Some of us embrace it more than others. Tom isn't afraid to grasp for power wherever it originates. And others flock to him hoping for a piece of it."

Hermione shuddered against him. "I thought… before I came here… that he was irredeemable. Dumbledore had built up all of the bad and portrayed him as this _monster_ and meeting him before… before _this…_ all of the good had been stripped away. He was mad Abraxas."

Abraxas shrugged. "What did Lord Acton say?" he murmured, "Power corrupts and…"

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Hermione finished for him, raising her eyes to meet his fearfully, "'Great men are almost always bad men.' A bit of a paraphrase, but that was the general gist. That's what I'm afraid of Abraxas."

"Oh honey," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, "You haven't seen the worst of it yet."

"Are you sure?" she asked and Abraxas paused, considering it. He tended to forget she was from the future and had lived through Tom at his worst.

"I wouldn't know," he said eventually, "The real question Hermione is: What do you want? Because the longer this continues, the fewer choices you have. Tom _will_ consume you and it's up to you to make sure you aren't lost in the process."

They sat in silence for a couple of long minutes while Hermione sorted through her thoughts. She was tired of resisting, tired of being scared, tired of caring. She had watched her best friend struggle daily for seven years to figure out _why_ a dark wizard was fixated on him and helped him fend off that same wizard at every turn. She had lived through a war. A bloody, gruesome war fought by children. And so, yes, she was tired. She wanted to be able to close her eyes and sleep oblivious to history repeating, changing around her and just _be_.

"Just… I'm so tired of being scared all the time. I'm tired of _caring_ ," she sighed, leaning against the boy who had become like a brother to her since she'd arrived in the past and letting their conversation slip away as they both lost themselves in their thoughts.

HG*TR

They both started an hour or so later as the door banged open to reveal Tom looking positively wretched. His hair was a bird's nest with leaves and twigs stuck within it, and there were dark circles tattooed beneath his blue eyes. Hermione shook Abraxas' arm off her and rushed to his side. "Tom," she gasped, "What happened?"

Abraxas watched her begin to fuss over the man he'd vowed to follow wherever he went, noting how she responded to Tom's gentle touches even as she reciprocated with her own. There was no fear in her toward the dark-haired wizard anymore, and as she leaned comfortably into an embrace, he wondered if she even knew how deep she was, how tightly Tom had bound her to him.

As he met Tom's haunted eyes over the brunette's mane of hair, he wondered how long it would take Tom to claim her completely. She said they'd kissed last night and while he knew she was conflicted, he also knew that Tom would win her eventually. If the current display was any indication, Tom had already made a lot of progress in gaining her trust. He nodded in brief acknowledgement and brushed a hand over Hermione's shoulder as he left the two alone to talk.

HG*TR

"You were right," he croaked, as he pulled Hermione into a tight hug, needing to feel her against him. She didn't resist like she might have once, but leaned into the embrace and threw her arms around his neck tightly. Their kiss from the night before replayed in his mind. Her soft lips moving gently against his, even as her hands wound into the hair at the nape of his neck. He wondered if she regretted it but shook of the thought as he forced himself back to the issue at hand.

"The Resurrection Stone…" He held up the ring with steady fingers and if there was a slight tremor in them… well, he'd just seen his dead mother for the first time in his life.

"Tom," she whispered, staring at the stone with trepidation, "Who?"

He shook his head slowly and met Abraxas' eyes over her head. "No one important," he said, "I just wanted to see if it worked." She pulled back slightly, examining him closely and he closed his eyes as her fingers ran through the hair at the nape of his neck absentmindedly.

"Seems important," she murmured, "If you come back looking like this." She flicked a twig she'd teased out of his hair at him with a sad smile. He shook his head in response, watching as Abraxas moved closer and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder which she clasped briefly before he left the library.

"We need the others," he said, ignoring her searching look.

"The other what?" she asked, "Hallows?"

He nodded. "The cloak," he said, "The wand."

Her eyes closed briefly as if she was reliving some memory. "Which one," she asked leaning back against the cage of his arms, "would you choose if you could only have one?"

His brow wrinkled. "I thought the point was to possess all of them," he said, "The three together would be…"

"It's just a question Tom," she soothed, opening her eyes to look up at him, "Something I asked Harry and Ron when we found out they existed outside of fairy tales. Harry wanted the stone, Ron wanted the wand and I… thought the cloak would be the most useful. At the time, we didn't realize we had two of the three on our persons, of course, so it was just speculation."

"The wand," he whispered, his voice hungry and yearning, "I'd want the wand." She looked at him with brown eyes that saw too much and he tried to shutter his expression so she wouldn't see the hunger there, wouldn't retreat back into her own mask that she'd only just begun to fully discard around him.

She nodded. "I thought so," she breathed and instead of pulling away like he feared, she leaned closer. He wanted to kiss her again but refrained, afraid she'd reject him and not sure he'd be able to withstand it after the morning he'd had.

HG*TR

"I have a task for you," Tom said the next morning, as he bore down on Dolohov where he slouched on a couch in the sitting room, "I need you to retrieve something for me."

Dolohov grunted in response and Tom felt his ire at the man rise. "Dolohov," he snapped, and the Russian finally deigned to glare up at him, resentment simmering in his eyes.

" _What_ Tom?" he grumbled.

Tom hissed and made a slashing motion with his wand that caused Dolohov to yelp and clutch his arm in agony. "Do we need to have another discussion about the hierarchy of power here?" Tom asked evenly. Obviously, their chat a month ago had not achieved the precise effect he'd hoped for. Another round might be necessary to pound into the Russian wizard exactly who was in charge. "Or are you going to do what I ask without any more insolence?"

Dolohov's eyes dropped to the floor meekly. "No my Lord," he murmured, "I'm sorry, my Lord."

HG*TR

 **(For All-Good-Marauders because you requested a jealous Dolohov.)**

Antonin grumbled as he stood outside the gates of the Potter's townhouse. He was miserable. It had been raining all morning and his cloak – which had been dry when he'd started out the day – was sopping wet. He cursed Tom and his whims under his breath. He'd much rather be holed up in Malfoy Manor watching Tom and Abraxas fuss over the Granger-Malfoy girl.

He didn't understand the fuss anyway. Sure, the chit was pretty enough but her blood wasn't by any means _pure_. There was a _reason_ her branch of the Malfoy family had been disowned and it wasn't simply because the chit's mother had refused to marry the match chosen for her by her parents. That happened often enough in the pureblood circles that, while it was still a scandal when it happened, once the girl had married an appropriate match – not necessarily the original choice – it blew over fairly quickly.

No, instead the chit's mother had had the audacity to run off and marry a muggle! How she'd even met the piece of filth was a mystery – no self-respecting pureblood witch would ever stoop to going _near_ muggle London, let alone converse with one whilst there – but she'd done it somehow and disgraced her entire family in the process.

And now, the half-blood spawn of that disgraceful marriage had been reinstated into the Malfoy family tree and was upsetting the careful hierarchy at Malfoy Manor with her airs because she'd somehow bewitched Tom. It was sickening. A woman should know her place and it certainly wasn't one of power… at least not outside of the bedroom, and even then… And yet, she'd somehow convinced Tom that retrieving this _cloak_ from Fleamont Potter was of the utmost importance and thus, here he was, in the rain, outside Potter's townhouse, soaking wet…

 _Fuck._ Why couldn't Tom come get the bloody cloak himself? Why him? Why not Tom's little whore, or Abraxas? It was probably that little bitch again. She didn't like him. She'd even tattled to Tom when he'd tried to get his fair share of the whore's affections and gotten him in trouble with Tom. To the point that it had taken him two weeks to recover sufficiently to return to Malfoy Manor. And he was still on Tom's blacklist or he wouldn't be here now, completely miserable.

He straightened up abruptly as he saw a cloaked woman approaching the gates. He checked his disillusionment charm to make sure he was sufficiently hidden and squinted to see if she was his target. Her navy cloak was dry, indicating that she'd apparated from inside somewhere and her dress was an expensive blue number, indicating she was relatively wealthy. As she got closer Antonin recognized Euphemia Potter née Black from his brief interactions with her in the past. Her wavy black hair was pinned up elegantly under her hood and her hazel eyes shone with mirth as she approached the house she shared with her husband.

Perfect, Antonin thought as she waved her wand at the gates to unlock them and went inside. He followed closely on her heels, determined to enter the house and finish this ridiculous task. As Euphemia opened the door and entered, Antonin cast a sticking spell so the door caught as she went to close it.

"For the love of Merlin," she hissed, her cheerful demeanor evaporating as she struggled to budge the door, "I thought Fleamont fixed this." Antonin grinned at the witch's irritation as he carefully sidestepped her into the house, casting a quick drying spell on his clothes as he did. It wouldn't do to reveal his intrusion by dripping water everywhere. He didn't release the sticking charm until he'd slunk halfway up the stairs to the second floor to make sure Euphemia wouldn't accidentally bump into him when she shut the door. When he was sufficiently far enough away he turned around and removed the charm, smirking as the slight witch flew backward when the door gave suddenly.

"Oh bloody hell," she snapped, "Fleamont!"

"Love?" a male voice called from further in he house, "Is that you? How was the luncheon?"

"Yes. It was lovely," she said irritably as a man in his mid-30's with messy black hair and blue eyes appeared, "I thought you fixed the front door."

His brow furrowed at her. "I did," he replied, "Did it get stuck again?"

"Yes, and then it just gave all of a sudden," Euphemia sniffed, "I could have hurt myself!"

Fleamont sighed, and put a gentle hand on her lower back. He guided her tenderly toward what Antonin assumed was a sitting room. "I'll take another look at it," he said, "But why don't we go have some tea so you can recover first."

Antonin resisted the urge to snicker as he watched the scene he'd caused unfold. He hadn't liked Fleamont Potter ever since he'd taken one of the most desirable of the eligible young pureblood ladies off the market six years ago… That her parents had agreed to the match didn't bear thinking about. Antonin was sure trickery of some sort _must_ have been involved since the Blacks usually arranged marriages more advantageous than that of their youngest daughter with Fleamont, an upstart business man.

As Fleamont continued to console his wife, Antonin slipped up the stairs and into the master bedroom to look for the thrice-blasted cloak Tom wanted.

 **A/N: The quote from the beginning of the chapter is from one of my all-time favorite authors (Guy Gavriel Kay). A fantastic author. I** _ **highly**_ **recommend him.**

 **A/N2: You all liked the kiss, huh? :P Hopefully you like the sneak peak into Dolohov's mind as well. I'm all caught up on pre-written material so you may not get anything for a couple of weeks. Sorry in advance.**

 **A/N3: Thank you franchessybee, Jess6800, Rosie-illuminati, RoyalRose161, Sarah, Misslunalovegood, AngelLover88, Lilyluna, Lady Voldemort, SalazarSlytherin, littleneko1923, Beetle126, and a few anonymous guest reviewers for your reviews!**

 **Love to everyone,**

 **flames**


	18. Lemon Zest Reminders

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything… except maybe the plot.**

 **A/N: I have to say, I struggled this week to get a chapter out. Between busyness at work/school (I have** _ **so much**_ **I want to get done before I go home for the holidays…) and getting blocked on the first scene in this chapter it's been an unproductive week writing-wise. I'm sorry this is so short but at least I have something, right?**

 _That felt strange. How sharp a rent a handful of moments made in the fabric of a life._

\- Guy Gavriel Kay

The cloak rippled and flowed to the ground as Tom shook it out. He smoothed a hand over it in awe and Hermione smiled at it fondly. She lifted a fold of the silky fabric, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. Tears sparkled in her eyes and Tom dropped the cloak to the ground immediately, the fabric falling into a puddle at their feet as he pulled her into his chest.

"Pretty witch," he murmured, "What's wrong?"

She smiled sadly again. "N-nothing," she choked out, clearly holding back tears.

"Obviously, it's not nothing if you're about to dissolve into tears on me," he teased her gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

"I… just have so many memories of us and that cloak," she sniffled, "And I'm never going to see them again. At least, not with them remembering anything about me."

"Harry and Ron," Tom clarified. She nodded and buried her face against his shoulder. He sighed and rubbed her back in soothing circles. There was nothing he could say to that as much as he wanted to make her feel better. Her friends were, for all intents and purposes, dead. She might encounter them again, but they wouldn't know her.

He didn't know when he'd become so fond of the little muggleborn witch but he had. She was _his_. The only other wizard he could stand being in her immediate presence was Abraxas and that was because he knew the blonde wizard had no romantic feelings for the witch; Abraxas' love for her was strictly familial for all that she wasn't related to him by blood. But Abraxas also knew his place, and the other members of his cabal were less trustworthy. One day soon he was going to have to publicly put them in their place but no one had stepped out of line badly enough yet for him to enact a punishment.

When she pulled out of his embrace a few minutes later she placed a palm on his cheek and leaned up to kiss his other cheek gently. Tom froze at the contact. She'd never initiated the intimate gestures between them before, for all that he pushed her beyond her comfort zone in their conversations. For all that they'd kissed the other night. The fact that she did it so unconsciously, made him want to grin because she was falling into line just like he wanted her to. Not wanting to reveal anything though, he settled for smiling back at her softly.

"I'm ok," she said, "I miss them so much sometimes, and seeing that cloak…"

"Brought back a lot of memories," Tom murmured, "I wish I could say you'd see them again, but we both know that would be a lie."

They stepped apart and stared down at the cloak at their feet. Tom swallowed audibly and she smiled again, kneeling to pick up the invisibility cloak. With a rogue-ish grin and a flourish, she swept the Cloak over her head and disappeared from sight.

"Catch me if you can," she laughed, dispelling the tension lingering in the air. Tom grinned and swiped at the air in front of him, knowing that she would have already moved. He closed his eyes, listening, and when he heard a soft sound behind him that he just knew was her, whirled around to grasp the air behind him. A disembodied chuckle echoed through the room. "You're going to have to do better than that Tom," she laughed, mirth evident in her voice.

He chuckled. "Minx," he said, as he focussed on expanding his senses, trying to sense her. He pulled his wand out after the third failed attempt and tried summoning the cloak to him, surprised when it wouldn't.

"It's charmed not to betray its wearer," Hermione's bodiless voice said behind him and he spun trying to pinpoint where she was. They continued to play their game for another half hour or so. Every time he thought he was close she would slip through his fingers and pretty soon they were both laughing breathlessly.

"I will find you, pretty witch," Tom warned, "And when I do…"

"You'll what, Tom?" her breathless voice emanated from directly behind him. He spun around, seeing nothing and reached out carefully to brush the silky fabric of the invisibility with the tips of his fingers. He shuddered as he came into contact with it. He knew that if she hadn't wanted him to find her, he wouldn't have. She'd slip through his fingers like the other instances in their game.

"I'll never let you go," he murmured, pinching the fabric gently and pulling it slightly so the cloak snaked off her head and shoulders and puddled on the floor to reveal her messy hair and honey eyes. She bit her lip as he stepped forward, eyes gleaming possessively. He saw the flicker of fear in the depths of her eyes before she ruthlessly quenched it and smirked as she moved to meet him halfway like the Gryffindor lioness she was.

"And if I wanted you to?" she asked, "Let me go? What then?" Tom smiled as their bodies brushed against each other. His hands trailed patterns on her arms and she shivered against him. Her head tilted up to meet his eyes evenly and he bent his head, letting his lips hover over hers.

"Oh love," he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers, "I'm never letting you go. You're _mine._ " She shuddered and he sensed fear, but also anticipation. He leaned closer, trying to decipher the source of the fear. She hadn't been afraid of him for weeks now. He hissed softly as he felt her mask go up. "Why, Hermione," he asked, "Do you _want_ me to let you go? What are you afraid of?"

She swallowed and stepped back but he followed her, refusing to give her space. "No. And that may be the problem," she whispered. Her eyes slid shut as he pressed his lips against her hungrily. He felt her melt against him momentarily before she tensed, and tried to push him away. Two nights ago, he would have let her go, but she'd shown him she was willing to give this a try. She hissed as the tether between them tightened and raised her hands to shove at his shoulders angrily.

" _No_ ," she hissed.He ignored her protests and used the slight gap she'd given him to plunder her mouth, slipping his tongue between her lips to taste the sweetness of her mouth that her lips had only hinted at. Only when she relaxed against him with a whimper did he release her and she pulled back, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes.

"Well, bully to you, then," she whispered. Without another word, she spun around and rushed from the room. Tom stared after her, trying to figure out when their game had taken a darker turn.

She'd said she didn't want him to let her go. Hadn't she? His eyes slid shut as the last part of her statement sank in. _That may be the problem_. He hadn't picked up on the uncertainty, the skittishness she had obviously been experiencing since their kiss two nights before, and then he'd pushed her too hard. He just assumed that because she'd said yes before, she would again.

"Fuck," he swore softly, staring at the closed door and running his fingers through his hair agitatedly. He'd just set himself back weeks.

HG*TR

Abraxas felt himself grow more and more concerned as Hermione missed both lunch and dinner. At lunch, Tom merely looked resigned at his fiancée's absence but, upon seeing the empty chair at dinner, a flash of rage flickered in Tom's eyes before they shifted to resignation. Abraxas watched the other members of their cabal observe Tom casually, looking for any hint that he'd take his bad mood out on someone at the table. No one spoke much, too wary of their Lord's mood to risk irritating him, and Abraxas felt his back get stiffer and stiffer as the meal went on. When Tom finally put his fork down and dismissed everyone, a collective breath of relief was released by the other inhabitants as they scurried off before Tom could change his mind about letting them go.

Abraxas caught Tom's arm before he could stalk out of the room and Tom actually hissed at him. "What happened?" Abraxas said calmly, despite the red ring that appeared around Tom's iris' upon be detained.

"Who said anything happened?" Tom snarled. Abraxas sighed and flicked his wand to ward the dining room against eavesdroppers before he turned back to Tom and raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"You're actually going to make me list the cues?" Abraxas asked.

Tom snarled and drew his wand. "Malfoy…" he warned.

"What the fuck happened between you and Hermione?" Abraxas repeated the question, stepping dangerously close to his Lord. "I know something did. She doesn't miss meals and you're in a piss poor mood so something must have happened."

"I scared her, ok?" Tom spat, "I kissed her and she tried to push me off and I scared her."

Abraxas sighed, rubbing the tension out of his forehead. "Bloody hell, Tom," he hissed, "For someone so good at reading people you're a fucking idiot sometimes."

"I don't fucking need you to rip into me, Abraxas," Tom retorted, "I'm already doing a stellar job of that myself. I just thought…"

"What? That because she'd kissed you earlier this week that it was ok to force yourself on her?" Abraxas yelled, "She's a fucking lost soul. The future messed her up good and you're the man who becomes not only her worst enemy but her biggest fear. It's a bloody miracle she can have a civil conversation with you let alone consider you a friend. Any relationship you have with her is going to take time. A lot of it."

"I _know_ ," Tom hissed, "I'm perfectly aware how badly I screwed up. Why the fuck do you care anyway?"

"Bloody hell," Abraxas swore, "This _again_. Why do we _always_ have this conversation? She's _family_. I _care_ about her emotional and physical well being."

There was a long moment of silence as Tom stared at the floor and Abraxas breathed heavily after his outburst. Finally, Tom looked up at him again and Abraxas relaxed slightly to see that the red was mostly gone from his eyes. "The only reason," he said jabbing a finger into Abraxas' chest, "The only reason, I'm letting you get away with confronting me like this is because you're worried about her and I was wrong."

"Fine," Abraxas snapped, "I understand." Tom's eyes flashed red again at the insolent tone but he seemed to shrug it off. "What are you going to do about Hermione?"

Tom took a deep breath. "I'm going to give her a bit more space while you go find and talk to her. Then I will _apologize_." The last word was said with a sneer and Abraxas resisted the impulse to point out that people normally apologized for hurting another person.

"Very well, my Lord," Abraxas murmured, bowing slightly to Tom before he released the wards on the dining room and went searching for Hermione.

HG*TR

"Hermione?" Abraxas's voice softly filtered to her from where she sat huddled in the conservatory on the top floor of the manor.

She wiped at her eyes frantically with the back of her hand, wondering how he'd found her. She'd come up here to hide because it wasn't somewhere she normally went and she didn't want to be found. She stayed silent, hoping Abraxas would assume that she wasn't here and go looking for her somewhere else.

"Hermione?" Abraxas called again, closer this time. She closed her eyes, counting silently, hoping he'd leave her here to wallow in peace. She tensed as she heard his muttered _Homenum revelio_ and waited for the inevitable. "I know you're up here, Hermione," Abraxas said softly, closer again, "Tom and I are worried."

Hermione laughed darkly. "I'm sure he is," she said hoarsely, "He disillusioned himself today. Showed his true colours, so to speak. Although, for all his faults, I never thought Tom Riddle was a rapist. Egotistical megalomaniac, yes. Sadistic dictator, yes. Rapist, no. I suppose it wasn't a huge stretch… Rapists thrill on the feeling of power over their victims and Tom has always been a power hungry—"

"Enough. Tom didn't—" Abraxas snapped even as she cut him off as he had her.

"Not that I'd expect you to understand," she continued bitterly, as she twisted around to see Abraxas standing a few metres behind her, "You think the sun rises and sets in his eyes… or some equally romantic drivel. It's a shame he'll never see you the way you want him to." She bared her teeth in a mockery of a smile as his fingers clenched into tight fists at her words, hitting home just as she'd intended. In a couple of long strides, he was by her side and she flinched back perfectly aware that she'd probably lashed out and wounded her only ally here.

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, and flinched again when she saw the hurt and anger there. Upon seeing her expression, something seemed to break in his expression and he softened with a sigh, sitting beside her on the bench. After a few minutes, she spoke. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "It's not your fault."

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

Hermione sighed. "Abraxas, you're the 20 year-old heir of a prestigious Sacred-28 Pureblood family and I've never once seen your fiancé or your parents. I'm assuming you're engaged because most Pureblood parents engaged their children from a young age. But I've never once met your parents or your fiancé. And then you follow Tom around like a lost puppy most of the time…"

"Surely, I'm not that bad?" Abraxas murmured.

"No," Hermione agreed, "But an observant person can pick up the subtlest of cues."

"Like you," Abraxas sighed, "I like women as well…"

Hermione nodded sagely. "Bisexual," she murmured and laughed dryly at Abraxas' shocked expression, "Muggles – I don't know about the magical community – are much more accepting of alternate sexual orientations in my time, and the term you're looking for is bisexual. You are attracted to both men and women." Abraxas nodded, filing the information away for later.

"My parents retired to France when I finished schooling," Abraxas said, "They never liked England and the only reason they lived here was so I could attend Hogwarts so now that I've graduated…"

"There's no reason for them to remain. But they let you?" Hermione finished for him quietly.

"Yes… They share many of Tom's views and he mentioned he needed a base of operations so they invited him to make use of the manor."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, "And your fiancé?"

Abraxas sighed. "Rosea Lestrange. She's nice enough I suppose… I don't know much about her except that her bloodline is apparently impeccable." This was said with a bit of a sneer. "But I don't love her. She's living with her parents currently. She'll graduate Hogwarts next year and we'll be wed shortly thereafter."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Eventually Abraxas broke it. "Do you believe everything you said?" he asked quietly, "Earlier?"

She picked at the hem of her dress as she considered her answer. "Most of it," she said eventually, "But I know it's not as black and white as I'd like either. Tom… he _hurt_ me today. I know he doesn't particularly do the whole equals thing… but I went from person to possession in a matter of moments and he _didn't_ care."

"He is sorry," Abraxas said and Hermione snorted.

"Only because he's reminded me that he hasn't changed. Not really," she returned.

"He was upset at lunch today," Abraxas murmured, "And dinner. He was worried about you."

Hermione laughed bitterly. "I'm sure he was," she muttered staring down at her lap. After a moment, she looked at Abraxas with steely eyes. "Look," she said, "I appreciate that you're trying to smooth this over for us but you can't. Tom and I have to work this out on our own."

Abraxas swallowed and her eyes narrowed at him. "That means _go away_ Abraxas," she said. She cocked her head to regard the door he'd come in. "And you might as well send Tom in on your way out," she sighed.

Abraxas nodded slightly and stood up to leave. Her squeezed her shoulder as he left. "For what it's worth," he murmured in parting, "I'm sorry."

She smiled tightly at him and clasped his hand in her own. "I know," she murmured, "Now go. Tom's impatient."

 **A/N: Thanks all for your reviews and support. This week was rough, thus the shorter chapter than normal. Hopefully next week will be easier although the holidays are coming up fast so maybe not…**

 **Thank you especially to GoldDust7501, Lady Voldemort, SalazarSlytherin, acompletenerd, franchessybee, Beetle126, lexicon63738, Lady Hitomi Albatou, Misslunalovegood, Her-my-own-nee, Lilyluna and various anonymous guest reviewers, for the reviews. You are the reason this week's chapter exists because without your support and cheers for more, I probably would have gone this week without writing anything.**

 **Sending virtual hugs and kisses,**

 **flames**


	19. Molehills into Mountains

**Disclaimer: Don't own nuffin'.**

 **A/N: And we're back! I can't believe it's December already! Eek! So, this is important, (i.e. PLEASE READ) the holidays are a busy time of year for everyone whether you celebrate Christmas, or another religious holiday, or nothing at all. The same goes for me. I have a ton of social/family events in the coming weeks and I may not have time to write as much as I'd like. SO, what I'm saying is that I will TRY to keep my update schedule (i.e. every Friday), but please understand if I'm late updating for whatever reason in the coming weeks. I appreciate all of the support.**

 **You guys have no idea what you're in for this week… *smiles evilly***

 _Courage is knowing what not to fear. -–_ Plato

Hermione sighed as she watched Abraxas leave the conservatory and Tom slipped in. "I want my own room," she said, as he approached, "My own bed. It can be in your suite but I'm not sleeping in the same room as you again."

"Hermione—" Tom started to say but she cut him off viciously. She stared out the window, refusing to look at him where he stood uncertainly in the centre of the room. _Skilled in manipulation_ , Harry's voice whispered and she held onto his presence desperately. She couldn't look at Tom or the fog that had blotted out his darker side would return and she'd forgive him.

"I don't care how sorry you are, Tom Riddle," she snapped, "You can't just walk in here, apologize, and expect everything to go back to normal."

"I made a mistake," Tom murmured and she snorted.

"Yes, you let me see the darkness lying dormant in your soul," she said derisively, "I knew it was there of course but somehow I didn't see it until today."

Tom flinched back. "You said…"

"That I didn't think you weren't a monster," she snapped, "I know, Tom. And I don't. But that doesn't mean I think you're a good person either. You _hurt_ me."

Tom flinched again and her eyes flashed angrily in the dim light. "I'm sorry," he said, and she watched him try to supress the urge to dominate her from the corner of her eye. To force her to his will.

"It's a start," she said dismissively, looking at him for the first time since he'd entered the room. She'd steeled herself for the kicked puppy aura he exuded but still felt herself weakening under it and looked away quickly. He wasn't really sorry, she reminded herself. He was only sorry the incident had stripped away the haze that had settled on her since arriving in 1946. Her dismissiveness and impassivity seemed to do the trick because his demeanor changed in the next moment as an edge of anger shaved away some of the piteousness he was employing to try and manipulate her.

"What more do you want from me?" he snapped.

"My own room for a start," she retorted, "There's no reason I _have_ to sleep in the same bed as you."

"No," he snarled.

"Then we have an impasse, don't we?" she said sweetly. She watched his eyes flash red and tried to quench the primal fear that welled up in her upon seeing an undeniable attribute of the _monster_ she had tried to help Harry destroy. _Tread carefully, Hermione_ , Harry's voice said and the sound of his voice grounded her enough that she didn't dissolve in a puddle of fear and cave.

Tom turned in a circle, breathing heavily and she watched him out of the corner of her eye. "Fine," he eventually ground out, "Your own room."

She smiled brightly at him. It was all sharp edges and teeth. "Brilliant," she said and he stared at her like he'd never seen her before.

"You don't actually believe I'm a rapist, do you?" he asked a beat later.

Her smile faltered and the smile he sent her in return was the twin of hers. She flinched and looked down at her lap. "No," she said, "I don't. I was angry. I _am_ angry and I didn't want Abraxas to talk me down from my _valid_ feelings."

Tom nodded. "You're stuck you know," he said conversationally, smiling again as she flinched, "It doesn't matter how this… disagreement… ends, because you're _mine_."

Hermione felt her lips pull back grotesquely in a wordless snarl. "I am not some fucking _possession_ for you to toy with." She stood up from the bench she'd seated herself on violently and stalked toward Tom. _Hermione!_ Harry snapped, but she ignored his voice and plowed forward. Tom smirked and met her halfway. His hand caught her wrist as she raised her wand to his throat.

"Ah, ah," he murmured, using his free hand to relieve her of her wand. Her arm trembled angrily in his grip as she tried to snatch it back. She swore angrily as the leash he'd tied to her tightened, holding her in place. "Please try to remember how that ended for you the last time you tried."

Her attempts to get her wand back faltered and she stilled in his grip. Her eyes closed briefly as she remembered the stifling pain that had devoured her the last time she'd tried to harm him. He smiled down at her stiff form. "How do you know I haven't figured out how to circumvent that little side-effect?" she bit out angrily, glaring at him.

"Please," he murmured, brushing a thumb across her lower lip, "Even if your reaction to that simple warning hadn't given you away, only the spell caster can alter the binding. Also, horcruxes."

She growled at him and he chuckled. "You're adorable when you're angry, love," he said softly, leaning down as though he was going to kiss her. She bristled and fought like a wildcat to be free of him.

"Let me go," she hissed.

"Tell me you belong to me," he said. "And I will."

"No," she snarled. His eyes darkened angrily and flashed with red again. She met his gaze evenly as he took a deep breath to control his raging temper.

"I find my patience begins to grow thin, Hermione," he spat, "I have been lenient so far, allowing you to spend time with your _cousin_ , and letting you decide what to divulge about the future. But do not let my clemency fool you. I have a purpose for you and you will fill it, or else."

"What?" she spat, "You'll kill me?" His grip on her wrist was so tight it hurt and she could barely feel the tears streaking down her face. "Fat chance of that happening. I'm too valuable for you to lose, or have you forgotten that?"

"No," he murmured, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "But it seems you've forgotten that that is not the only means I have to keep you in line." Her face blanched as her thoughts raced back to an almost forgotten conversation they'd had weeks ago: _You have all these fond memories of your friends and family, no?_ "What do you think? Is a demonstration in order?"

She shuddered. "No," she whispered, "Please…"

" _Legimens_ ," he hissed.

She recoiled violently as he battered his way through her defenses and began to rifle through her memories. The intrusion felt like a hot knife being stabbed into her head over and over again and she was vaguely aware that she was screaming bloody murder. He lingered over memories she'd regaled him with as friendship budded between them, probably to verify the accuracy of the information she'd shared.

When he'd finished, he wrenched at the memory of her favorite dessert – cherry cobbler – and felt something twist. Her screams cut off as she gasped, nausea and a burning pain in her chest taking over as her thoughts lingered on the dessert, almost unaware as he withdrew.

She snapped back to awareness of him when he'd almost receded from her mind, and threw her favorite memories of time they'd spent together at him angrily. An image of him laughing with her in her glade, arguing about house elf rights, their kiss under the stars… She'd _trusted_ him. How could he throw that away, knowing when she was from and what he was in her time? Even as she felt Tom watch the emotions and feelings of safety and comfort that she'd gleaned from him in the past two months, she thrust the memory of that trust shattering into a thousand sharp pieces with his intrusion, and had the satisfaction of feeling him recoil from her mind in horror.

Her mind throbbed with echoes of his intrusion and she felt her grasp on consciousness slip away as everything went dark.

HG*TR

Hermione's body collapsed to the floor as Tom cringed. He stared down at her in shock and horror as he realized what he'd just done. Or rather, undone. "No," he hissed under his breath, "No, no, no, no." He knelt beside the unconscious witch and examined her to try and determine the extent of the hurt he'd caused. Her face was drawn and blood trickled down from her nose, smearing across her lips and chin. Otherwise she looked unharmed but he knew most of the damage he'd just wreaked was psychological, unseen.

He stood up angrily and slammed his fist into the glass wall, feeling a great deal of satisfaction as it shattered. "Fuck!" he yelled.

He hadn't intended to hurt her. He'd actually intended to apologize to her but he'd wanted to know how she felt before he did so he'd followed Abraxas and eavesdropped on their conversation. He could understand her emotions in an abstract way. She was scared because he'd pushed her too hard, but she also feared him because she knew something about what he was like from the future – not that he particularly wanted to equate his future counterpart with himself – and worse, she'd seen that side of him today because he'd gotten carried away. He'd been so relieved to discover that she didn't think he was a monster again, at least. And that her accusation of him being a rapist had been more blowing off steam than an actual conviction of hers had been a relief as well.

But when she'd sent Abraxas on his way and he'd gone inside, she'd insisted he provide her with her own room, and he could feel the progress he'd made with her sliding away. _Months_ of effort wasted in a single moment of stupidity. Why were Gryffindors so bloody sensitive? And he'd known… He'd sensed her fear and uncertainty before he'd kissed her. Bloody hell, she'd _told_ him in as many words.

It should have set him on guard. He should have known to proceed carefully and ease her back into her comfort zone. But he'd pushed instead… and now this. Maybe if he hadn't pushed her so hard he wouldn't have had to apologize and maybe he wouldn't have lost his temper and ravaged her mind.

He might have had a chance before this. Now… She was never going to forgive him.

HG*TR

She was standing in the courtyard back at Hogwarts again. It was eerily silent in the crowded area and she spun around to survey the faces surrounding her. George, Dean, Lavender, Hannah, Kingsley... people she'd gone to school with, fought with, stood frozen. A statuesque Draco was being enveloped by his mother on the other side of the large space, surrounded by equally still Death Eaters. Her lip curled as she recognized Antonin Dolohov standing beside Thoros Nott. Abraxas was absent of course, dead from Dragon Pox multiple years earlier.

She was the only one moving. It was like they'd all been turned to stone and she recognized the scene as the moment after Voldemort had declared Harry dead. She turned around to search for Ron, finding him directly behind her, and she stepped up to him to wave a hand in his face. Unresponsive. "Ron?" she whispered.

"They can't hear you," a singsong voice mocked from the other side of the courtyard. Hermione swallowed as she recognized the voice and turned around to watch Nemain step out from behind Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Why am I here?" she whispered, the sound carrying through the courtyard as though she'd shouted. "Why bring me back here?"

"Why not?" Nemain asked, "So much _fear_." Her voice turned breathy and longing on the word fear and Hermione shivered. The goddess cocked her head at Hermione. "You don't like her," she said, brushing a finger across Bella's cheek lovingly. The motionless witch seemed to shiver under the touch and Hermione wanted to shout at her to stop. She didn't want her torturer to be the only other being free to move about in this tableau.

"No," Hemione bit out, "I don't generally care for people who try to kill me."

" _He_ tried to kill you," Nemain whispered, pointing at the shell of a person that used to be Tom Riddle but was now wholly Voldemort, "But you care for him."

Hermione blanched. "It's not the same. He isn't the same person in the past as he is here." Nemain shrugged and stepped away from Bellatrix, much to Hermione's relief.

"This," Hermione said, trying to change the subject, "It's gone, isn't it? Void."

Badb's low chuckled startled her and she turned to search for the second member of the triad but couldn't see the warrior goddess within the sea of frozen fighters. " _Not yet_ ," Nemain breathed, imbuing her words with the terror and fear only she could invoke. Hermione stumbled back a step and would have fallen if she hadn't staggered into Macha.

"I'm working on it," Hermione snapped as she righted herself, putting a good few meters between herself and the circling goddesses. She still wasn't sure where Badb was although she'd heard her laugh. " _He_ makes it bloody hard sometimes."

"You are about to give up a position of influence," Macha said, "It is folly."

"He just _hurt_ me," Hermione snarled, "I'm _sorry_ if I'm not currently inclined toward forgiveness."

"Your opportunity to switch to the optimal path will soon pass," Badb said, startling Hermione as she appeared by her ear, "You need to act."

"I don't want to change anything!" Hermione shrieked, even though she'd been working on doing just that with Tom for almost two months now. The piece of her that still rankled at the thought of breaking the laws regarding changing time sagged with relief. The future was still mostly on course. The part that wanted to save her friends sobbed. She didn't know which half was stronger. She brandished her wand at the three aspects and sank into a fighting stance to watch them circle her warily. "You chose the wrong witch."

"No," Macha thundered, "We did not. You are our agent of change."

"Then I refuse," Hermione snapped.

"You _can't,_ " Nemain breathed.

Hermione bristled angrily. "I still have free will," she snarled, "Of course I can."

"How do you know you would like the outcome of your original timeline?" Macha asked simply.

"In my original timeline, I _die_ ," Hermione hissed, "Or do you forget Voldemort's killing curse?"

"Possibly deflected by Harry Potter's spell," Badb murmured.

"As much as I love Harry and appreciate his attempt to save me, I doubt it," Hermione said, "If I was going to live, I assume you wouldn't have been able to pull me out of the timeline and catapult me into the past to change it." She noticed Badb and Macha wince slightly, and bared her teeth in a triumphant grin. "Exactly as I thought."

"Have it your way," Macha hissed, her face contorting with anger at Hermione's obstinacy. She snapped her fingers and suddenly everything was too loud as the battlefield awoke. Ron jostled her from behind as they shoved their way to the front of the crowd and heard the Dark Lord declare Harry dead. By the time, Hermione thought to look for the goddesses, they'd disappeared and she'd pitted herself against Voldemort again.

"HARRY!" she screamed as the beam of crackling beam of blue light hit her. She felt something snap inside her as the light hit her chest and she was violently expelled from her body to hover over the battlefield unable to act in any way except watch.

After that everything happened too quickly for her to comprehend. Harry stood staring at her mangled body, frozen. Ron fell, hit in the back with a bolt of green light. The fighting seemed to falter seeing the two of them fall and the Death Eaters began cutting down DA and Order members ruthlessly as they froze, seeing two thirds of the trio they thought would save them die.

Voldemort cackled and turned to Harry, still motionless, his wand slack in his hand. Both his friends gone. Hermione was conscious of Voldemort saying something to Harry, but she couldn't hear what over the roaring in her ears. The roar of the voice demanding that this not happen. That this could _not_ happen.

Her soul tore as she watched her best friend cut down and she sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "How do I know if you're lying?" she whispered.

 _We can't. We ae bound to the truth_. Their voices twined together and seemed to come from everywhere at once. Hermione felt herself shrivel up under the weight of their words. She wanted to scream but didn't have the power to. Being bound to the truth was not the same as truthful, she thought cynically. Half-truths and omission could be as harmful as outright lies. But… Their quest… it couldn't have been for nothing. If she could change it…

"I'll do it," she sobbed desperately, "I'll do it. We can't have done all of that for nothing. Survived all that only to fail at the end. Please."

 _Your oath, witch._ Somehow, she knew they meant something more binding that a simple oath. They meant an oath bound in her magic and blood. Something she couldn't back out of. She shuddered as she realized that once sworn she could be bound to do their bidding for the rest of her life. But if they could lie by omission or half-truth, then so could she. She could promise nothing more or less than stopping this battle. The battle where her two best friends die.

"I swear," she whispered, feeling something like a chain wrap around her. She felt herself be bound to her oath in much the same way Tom had bound her to him. "I swear on my magic I will do everything in my power to avert this particular battle coming to pass."

"Open your eyes," Macha's voice breathed and Hermione cracked open an eyelid to find herself curled up in the middle of the desolate battleground. Crows croaked to each other, flitting from dead body to dead body. She felt battered as she stumbled to her feet. Macha's "Now you must move quickly. Your window for the best path rapidly closes. Dumbledore is key."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I've heard," she said as she watched the three aspects of the Morrigan melt away, the two crows taking flight and mingling amongst the rest, and a brown wolf trotted amidst the fallen.

HG*TR

Her head throbbed as she regained consciousness and she groaned. "Harry," she whispered. She bolted upright, muscles screaming in protest and sagged as she absorbed her surroundings. Not a dream then.

She choked back a sob as she took in Tom's sparse rooms. He'd laid her on the couch and covered her with a blanket. She was surprised to note that he wasn't in the room waiting for her to wake up. As the events leading up to her falling unconscious caught up with her, she felt a tear slide down her face.

An awful burning sensation rooted itself in her head as she pulled forward the memory of eating cherry cobbler for the first time, just to test what he'd done. She'd been five and her grandmother had made it for dessert. The burst of flavour on her tongue had been divine and she'd begged for her grandmother to make more every day of that visit and every single one after. She sobbed as the longer she lingered on the memory, the worse the pain got and an uncontrollable wave of terror poured over her in a waterfall of emotion: fear, regret, anger…

She shoved the memory away, closing it off from her consciousness, and huddled on the couch sucking in deep breaths as she tried to get the panic under control. Tears continued to sting her eyes as she tried to come to terms with what Tom had done. Her torn away part of her. A small, insignificant part really, in light of everything she'd experienced, but considering memory was all she had left of her old life, it was enough. And she had to put it all aside to save Harry, Ron, her parents, her world…

HG*TR

She was standing in front of the window when Tom returned to check on her. She heard the door open and close with a soft swick and his soft footsteps enter the room. She didn't turn around when she heard his steps falter, just waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and she thought, hearing the anguish in his voice that, for once, he was completely sincere.

"It's not enough," she said. Her hands trembled a bit, afraid of his reaction, and she clasped them carefully.

"I know," he said in a stronger voice. It was rough, as though he'd been crying or yelling. That disturbed her because she knew Tom did neither. "And I'm still sorry."

"You stole my last refuge," she rasped, "You knew what my past means to me… What my memories mean to me… You knew I can't create new ones with the people I love. You knew that I'm _stranded_ here. And you knew that, despite my anger that you wouldn't stop kissing me when I asked, that I still trusted you. That I still meant to help you. And you _violated_ that and tore my mind apart and stole the pleasure from my memories… my _refuge_."

"Hermione," he whispered brokenly, " _Please_."

"We can't go back," she whispered, turning to look at him for the first time, and flinched. He was a complete mess. His hair was windswept, sticking up in all directions, and dark rings circled his eyes. His normally impeccably groomed clothing was askew. She swallowed hard as she took him in, her heart aching because he looked so heart-wrenchingly _broken_ , and she wasn't even sure if it was an act. "We can't go back," she repeated, "Only forward. And you have to re-earn _everything_ you gained. Everything you just threw away like it was worthless. And I can't tell you how to do that because I don't know myself."

His eyes closed slowly and he seemed to say a prayer under his breath before he answered her. "But there is a way to fix this."

Her uncertain brown eyes met his hopeful blue ones. "Maybe," she whispered, "We'll have to see."

 **A/N: … … … Don't hate me? I tried to make it better… but… I couldn't… for some reason.**

 **Reviews are like my bread and butter… so please leave one?**

 **Thank you so much to GoldDust7501, GreyGryffindor, Lunavert, Sarah, Blinck22, Beetle126, Obscurus, Misslunalovegood, Lady Voldemort, addicted2jasper18, Fizzybaby8 and multiple anonymous guest reviewers for their support. Even though I'm several chapters behind on responding to reviews, I do read every single one and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to receive a new one. Love you all so much!**

 **Love,**

 **flames**

 **P.S. - Sarah, it's so good to hear from you again! I missed you last chapter… This week was better, thank you. Just as hectic (it's that time of year), but better.**

 **P.S x2 - Obscurus: Thank you for the constructive criticism. Seriously (Or do I mean Siriusly? :P ). I was feeling the same way and your review (and a couple of others) helped me shape this one. Things will cool off again for a couple of chapters… Thank you again.**

 **P.S. x 3 - Misslunalovegood: Yes. Two down, 1 to go. I think we'll return to the hunt for hallows next chapter…**

 **P.S. x 4 - Lady Voldemort: Thank you! I loved writing the "hide n seek" scene.**

 **P.S x 5 - Both anonymous reviewers: Thank you!**


	20. Recruitment

**Disclaimer: The usual.**

 **Warning: I am not happy with this chapter but I wanted to give you guys something this week. This is mostly Tom-centric, and potentially has nothing to do with the plot of MC although I'm thinking about introducing Orion as a main supporting character (like Abraxas and Dolohov) so this could set some good background… My mind was not up to major plot advancement after the workout it got this week in other areas.**

" _Don't fear the enemy that attacks you, but the fake friend that hugs you."_

\- Pravinee Hurbungs

 **(For Akajo: I hope this was worth the wait…)**

Tom sighed as he watched Hermione flip idly through the book she was currently reading. It hadn't escaped his notice that she was researching the Morrigan again, which made him suspect they were visiting her dreams again. That, and the dark bags that were etching themselves under her eyes as though she was having a hard time sleeping. But he couldn't be sure because he'd ceded to her demand for her own room and he wasn't able to pull the dreams from her mind as they inevitably woke her in the night.

If Tom hadn't believed Hermione when she informed him he had to re-earn every millimeter of trust he'd won from the witch since her arrival in the past, the days following his loss of temper and subsequent rash actions hammered the reality of her words into him. For her part, Hermione was perfectly cordial. She'd have animated discussions with him, and spend time with him in the glade she'd effectively claimed as her own practicing wandless magic. The easiness that had accompanied their relationship in the days after its rocky start had vanished however.

Where she might have leaned into a casual caress of her shoulder as he passed behind her chair in the library, she now barely reacted other than to flick her eyes up from her book to see who it was. He nearly frothed with jealousy on the occasions when he came home from Borgin and Burkes, dusty from the ancient objects – many of them cursed – he bussed for Burke's clients to find her curled up on a couch in the library with Abraxas. He noticed she'd started spending more time with Thoros and a couple of the other members of his cabal as well in the evenings and couldn't prevent the spikes of resentment he felt any time one of them stole her attention from him.

It was his own fault though. He'd pushed her too hard and then violated her when he felt what he'd won slip away. He rarely let his control slip – it was a trait that did not serve well in the backroom politics that the Slytherin house thrived off – but he was occasionally hasty in his pursuits for power. He'd tipped his hand too soon on only one other memorable instance and it had lost him Dumbledore's trust. To be fair, he'd been drunk on the high of being responsible for Myrtle's death… but considering how Dumbledore was on track to be the next Headmaster of Hogwarts, it did not bode well for his aspirations to be a teacher there.

To that end, Hermione's insight into Dumbledore's dalliances with Grindelwald in his youth could be extraordinarily useful as blackmail material. He just needed to get the Elder wand first. He bit his lip, considering how he should go about broaching the subject of going after the Elder Wand, the only remaining Hallow that wasn't in his possession, with Hermione. The Hallow he coveted most of all because if he had an unbeatable wand he couldn't fail.

Eventually he receded from the library, not noticing how Hermione glanced up and watched him leave with a frown drawn between her eyebrows. He was late for work and it wouldn't do to annoy Burke. He stepped into the Floo in the Manor's foyer, called out the address to his work and was whisked away in green flames.

As he stepped from the Floo and waved his wand to remove any soot from his robes, Burke tottered around the counter of the store, grumbling under his breath. "Boy begged me fer a job," he muttered, "but 'e's never 'ere. Might as well 'uv hired some filthy mudblood fer all the use e's given me."

Tom controlled the rage that flashed through him at the old man's muttering – he complained about everyone and everything – and merely smiled pleasantly, plastering his mask on his face. He knew Burke wouldn't know what to do without him really too – he'd brag to any customer how helpful Tom was – and that lessened the sting of the brusque man's grumbling.

"I'm here now, sir," he said, "What can I do for you today?" This was only temporary, he reminded himself, Only until he located objects that belonged to the Founders. Of course, his original plan had been to transform the objects into horcruxes but Hermione had derailed that plan weeks ago, when she'd argued vehemently against the creation of any more of the soul vessels.

He bit back a chuckle at the memory of her drawing him a diagram to show him how much of his soul was left after each split. She'd drawn a circle and split it in half labelling one half his diary. She'd then halved the other half of the circle and labelled one the Gaunt ring and the other himself. Once complete, she'd glared up at him and pointed at the quarter labelled as him.

 _You'll have no soul left if you continue on this route. At least none large enough to be considered human,_ she'd said snarkily, _In fact, most of your horcruxes will be more human than you. Remember what I told you about instability. You turned Harry into a horcrux accidentally for Merlin's sake!_

He'd had to concede in the end. She'd made several inarguable points and he'd agreed to not make any more. Two was enough. One for immortality, two for insurance. Plus, the Hallows or some other form of immortality and he would be fine. But despite the change in his plans he still wanted relics of the Founders. He still considered Hogwarts his first home and the objects held sentimental value to him.

He shook free of his thoughts as Burke barked at him. "Are yeh deaf, boy?"

"No, sir," Tom said, "Sorry, sir. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment."

"Lost in thought, my ass," Burke snorted, "I need yeh te head o'er te the Ministry and pick up some forms fer me."

"Absolutely, sir," Tom murmured, "Anything else?"

Burke frowned, considering for a moment. "Yeah," he grunted and tottered back around the till to grab a small box and place it on the dusty counter, "Drop that off at the Black's would ya? They asked fer it about a week ago."

Tom's eyes gleamed as he wondered what the Black's wanted. Most of the family was Dark, although he hadn't been able to sway any of the family to his cause yet. This delivery could potentially give him a foot in the door. "What is it?" he asked as he picked up the package carefully and pocketed it.

Burke smirked nastily. "Their youngest is objecting to the match chosen fer him, so they ordered a set of charmed betrothal rings. Once on the fingers of the pair, they won't be able to back out of the commitment or touch anyone other than their betrothed _intimately_ again."

"Orion is getting married?" Tom asked nonchalantly, "To whom?"

"Walburga," Burke grinned, "Wanted to keep it in the family. I hear she's mad for him. E's not too keen on 'er though. 'Ence, the rings."

Tom nodded, his mind whirling with the possibilities that delivering the rings offered him. It gave him an excuse to interact with the Black's which was an advantage because he wanted their considerable resources on his side when he made his bid for control. However, the question then was how to play the situation.

He bit his lip considering what he knew of Orion Black. He'd known Orion's sister, Lucretia, and cousin, Walburga, much better as they had been in his year at Hogwarts. Lucretia had been a demure, pureblood girl who'd kept the boys on their toes, charming them with her beauty, whereas Walburga had been loud, outspoken, and cunningly vicious if scorned. Both were beautiful in their own way, but Tom didn't envy Orion's betrothal to Walburga. The woman was a conniving viper, if he'd ever met one, who would sooner double cross you than strike a deal.

Orion had been a few years behind Tom at Hogwarts. He was fairly quiet from what Tom remembered with straight black hair and the trademark silvery blue Black eyes. Handsome in only the way the Black's could be as well with aristocratic features, full lips, and an unconsciously arrogant bearing that only the upper class possessed. He'd been studious and kept mostly to himself and Tom ground his teeth in frustration when nothing more came to mind.

He wondered whether he could sway Orion to his side by interfering – or at least warning the boy. The other option, of course, was to ingratiate the family to him by providing a distraction for Orion to take his mind off his impending nuptials once the rings had been installed by inviting the boy over to Malfoy Manor and inducting him to his cabal.

HG*TR

Tom rolled the parchment he'd picked up from the Ministry and stuck it into a pocket as he pulled out the small ring box Burke had handed to him earlier. He nodded decisively as he placed it back there carefully and apparated to the Black residence: 12 Grimmauld Place.

Impassively, he watched as the house seemed to expand between number 11 and 13. The muggles living in the adjoining houses long amused by the accident that resulted in number 12 being skipped. Tom stared at the imposing structure for a moment. The dark windows yawned at him mockingly and he grinned at the feel of Dark magic seeping through the cracks of the building. The building had obviously steeped in Dark magic for generations and now the remnants of those practices exuded from the building's pores. He wondered if weird things happened in the neighbouring houses that the muggles explained away as being the quirks of old buildings.

He walked confidently up the blackened door and let the knocker, shaped in the Black family crest, fall heavily against the black paint. The door creaked open to reveal a shrunken and hunched over house-elf wearing a black loincloth. Tom peered into the house's gloomy interior but couldn't make much out besides an awful umbrella stand that looked like a troll's leg. "Why is you darkening Master's door? Doesn't you realize Master and Mistress are not receiving visitors?" it snapped grumpily.

Tom bit back a chuckle at the impertinent creature's attitude. "I think your Master will see me," he said as he removed the ring box from his pocket, "I have a delivery from Mr. Burke that may solve whatever problems they are currently experiencing."

The elf brightened dramatically and it bowed low to Tom ecstatically. "Oh, Kranby's Master and Mistress will be so happy!" it squealed, "Thank you, young sir, thank you! The Young Master has been so rotten. Kranby does not know what has gotten into him!"

"Kranby," a woman's sharp voice hissed from down the hall, "Send them away and be done with it."

"But Mistress, it is…"

"Tom Riddle, Mr. Burke's assistant," Tom interjected with some amusement at the elf's change in attitude.

"Come with the special rings for Young Master, Mistress!" the elf finished excitedly, jumping up and down.

Soft footsteps clicked toward the front door and a moment later a glittering woman emerged from the gloom to glance at Tom coolly. Tom felt the urge to bristle under her appraising look that immediately catalogued his expensive work robes and appearance and dismissed his importance just as quickly. "Then why hasn't he been invited in," she snapped. She was gorgeous with long wavy black hair and piercing silvery grey eyes. She wore a burgundy gown that had off-the-shoulder half-sleeves and a sweeping skirt that brushed the ground.

Kranby cringed and her ears drooped significantly. "Kranby is sorry, Mistress," it whispered, "Kranby was about to do so but Mistress appeared before Kranby could."

"The iron, Kranby," the woman sniffed coolly, "Ten minutes for each ear."

Kranby shrank even further and bowed so low that her nose scraped the ground. "As Mistress wishes," she whimpered and disapparated.

"Lady Black," Tom murmured as he inclined his head in greeting, "A pleasure, I'm sure."

She sighed heavily. "I wish it were more so, Mr.…?"

"Riddle, Tom Riddle," Tom replied easily, "I was in the same year as your daughter Lucretia and her cousin Walburga."

"Riddle," she rolled the name around on her tongue, "I believe Lucy has mentioned you a couple of times… You're friends with the Malfoy boy?"

"One and the same," Tom said.

"I apologize for our elf's behaviour," Lady Black sniffed, "We've only had her a few months and we're still breaking her in. Some things haven't stuck yet, unfortunately."

"Good help is so very hard to find these days," Tom murmured and hid his smirk as she did a doubletake and reassessed him. She stepped away from the door and gestured for him to enter.

"Isn't it?" she agreed as she closed the door and began to walk down the hall. "Can I interest you in some tea, Mr. Riddle?"

"Tea would be lovely, please," he responded, looking at the paintings on the walls curiously as he passed.

They entered a sitting room where two men and two ladies were seated. The two men were spitting images of each other with short black hair combed back from their faces and silver eyes. The elder of the two had the first hints of silver dusting his roots. The elder of the two men stood up and kissed the woman on the cheek. "Melania, who is this?" he asked, "I thought—"

"Mr. Riddle brought the rings we ordered, dear" Lady Black interjected smoothly. Tom noted how the young man, Orion probably, stiffened at the mention of rings and began to edge toward the door of the sitting room. "And he intrigued me, so I offered him tea. Arcturus, this is Tom Riddle. Mr. Riddle, Lord Black. And of course, you girls know Mr. Riddle from school." Tom bowed slightly and shook the older man's hand.

The young women in the room smirked at Lord Black's flabbergasted expression. The one nearest the door was near identical in appearance to the lady of the house and Tom recognized her as Lucretia Black. The other young woman, Lucretia's cousin Walburga, had wild black hair that hung loose to her waist and pale eyes that danced with mirth and the first hints of madness. "Tom," Walburga laughed, "How kind of you to deliver the rings for us? Wasn't it kind of Tom to deliver the rings, dearest?"

Orion froze in his escape and turned back to find all eyes in the room on him. He swallowed uncomfortably. "Of course, Walburga, dear. Thank you ever so much, Tom," he said evenly, "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Nonsense," Lady Black said, "Orion you'll stay for tea and we'll put the engagement rings on to make sure they suit our needs before you leave."

Orion's face fell. "Mother…" he protested but was cut off by his father.

"Orion…" Lord Black murmured in warning and Orion swallowed hard again.

"Of course, mother," he murmured, bowing his head. Walburga looked gleeful at the turn of events and Lady Black smiled serenely as she called Kranby. The elf appeared with a pop and Tom noted the elf's bandaged ears as Lady Black placed an order for tea, wondering if Hermione's arguments for House-Elf rights had merit for the first time since their argument about it.

Once everyone was settled down in a chair with tea, Lady Black began to expertly guide the conversation to Tom's hobbies and ambitions. He raised an eyebrow at her manipulations and proceeded to thoroughly charm them with his earnestness and watered-down plans.

Borgin and Burkes was only a stepping stone to what he actually wanted to do, he explained. It was hard for an orphan (always pureblood, adopted into a muggle family, and unable to reclaim his ancestral name) to find a position of influence, so he'd been forced to try and get some experience first before applying to Hogwarts to be a teacher and influence young minds.

Did he agree with the current doctrine? He believed muggleborns had a role in the wizarding world – every empire had its peasants and drudge workers. However, it would be prudent to educate them on Wizarding culture and assimilate them further into their society.

By the time, Tom had drained his cup, Arcturus and Melania were regarding him thoughtfully. Lucretia and Walburga had impressed expressions fixed on their faces and seventeen-year-old Orion looked at Tom in awe. Under his mask, Tom smirked. He had them exactly where he wanted them. They were about to fall for him, hook, line, and sinker.

After a long moment of silence where they all digested everything he'd just fed them, Arcturus cleared his throat. "Well, Mr. Riddle," he murmured, "Your ideas are refreshing. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish in the coming years." And he had them.

HG*TR

Tom waited outside 12 Grimmauld Place for Orion to rush out in a fit of rage and frustration. He grabbed the younger boy's arm as he began to spin on the spot to apparate – probably anywhere his fiancé wasn't to drink himself into a stupor. The boy jolted as Tom made his presence known.

"Tom! Fuck," Orion hissed, "You fucking bastard. You gave them the fucking rings and now I can't get out of the Merlin-damned wedding!"

Tom held up his hands placatingly. "I didn't realize they were going to force you into an engagement when I brought the rings," he lied, "I'm sorry… I wouldn't have brought them if I'd known."

Orion swore viciously under his breath. "I need to get the fuck out of here," he snapped.

"I know a place," Tom said, "Come back to Malfoy Manor with me. I'll introduce you around and you can drink into a stupor for all I care. We all can – and lament arranged marriages. It's the least I can do after what happened today."

Orion blew air out of his nose as he mulled over Tom's suggestion. "…Ok," he agreed after a moment of contemplation, "As long as the liquor is on you, and you don't mind me drowning myself in fire whiskey."

"Of course," Tom said amicably, as he held out a hand for the younger boy to take so he could side-along apparate back to the Manor.

 **A/N: Hello lovelies. Thank you everyone who reviewed. There was a record 15 reviews for the last chapter and I am forever grateful for those of you who let me know you're enjoying what I'm writing. Hopefully there will be more this chapter. *looks hopeful***

 **Sorry this is a bit late. I spent my week in meetings, and number crunching (Anyone ever use R? It's a bitch… I fucking hate the program but it makes data analysis so much easier once you've got a working script that you can reuse as you get more data.) so I really had no time to write. But, I'm "off" until January now, even if I still have a lot of prep to do for the conference I'm going to, so hopefully I'll keep to my update schedule.**

 **A/N2: There are a couple of you waiting for requested scenes (Mythic Hue specifically). I am working on them. The only reason they haven't cropped up yet is because I think they'll fit into the plot so they should come soon. I just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about you and if I've forgotten anyone, just remind me. I'll get around to your request eventually.**

 **Love,**

 **flames**


	21. Ghosts from the Past

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except maybe parts of the plot…**

 **A/N: And… we're back on track… Or we will be by the end of the chapter. Thank you everyone for bearing with my tangent last chapter. An anonymous reviewer basically ripped apart my characterization of Hermione from Ch.12 through 19 (I deleted the review so it's no longer available to view) and I wanted nothing to do with Hermione last chapter. Thus, Orion and Tom's job.**

 **On that note… (And this is** _ **not**_ **addressed to anyone in particular, but I feel the need to address the anonymous review from two weeks ago.) I'm not forcing anyone to read this. I gain no profit from writing this except the enjoyment of writing, so I would really appreciate if you decide not read any further that you NOT inform me through a rude review. I** _ **really**_ **DON'T need to know you no longer want to read my story. All it does is ruin my drive to write, and thus ruin the story for everyone who does get enjoyment from reading because I'm slower on my updates (or discouraged enough to stop writing at all, or go off on fun, but pointless tangents) as a result. This is not to say I don't encourage** _ **constructive**_ **criticism. The point being, it is** _ **constructive**_ **and offers me some positive feedback while also saying** _ **but I think you could write this better**_ **.**

 **That said, to everyone who is enjoying reading this, I am so grateful for the reviews and the support you send me. I love opening my email in the morning and seeing a new notification for a review. Now, I've kept you here long enough so I will leave you to the next installment of TMC…**

 _Fortune favors the prepared mind. –_ Louis Pasteur

She'd dozed off rereading Connla's journal for the hundredth time. She'd been dreaming of the Morrigan nightly since Tom had mentally assaulted and her sleep had suffered for it since she rarely fell back into unconsciousness after such a dream. She'd die before she admitted it to herself or Tom, but sleeping alone made the dreams worse.

Having become accustomed to sleeping next to Tom – the sound of his breathing beside her, the warmth he radiated – made it difficult to fall asleep in the first place, but his absence after waking from a bad dream meant she wouldn't fall asleep again that night. She wasn't sure why, perhaps because on the occasions she jolted awake, his presence would ground her… remind her she wasn't alone and that the dream wasn't real.

In an attempt to stave off the nightmares – because the Morrigan's appearance in her dreams rarely ended without bloodshed and she was tired of watching her friends die – she'd taken to researching the Morrigan again, reading and rereading the same tomes over and over again in the hope that she'd uncover a detail overlooked before.

In her scour of the library she'd uncovered mentions of two others who'd appeared out of thin air claiming to be from the future. A man claiming to be _the_ Spartacus who'd led the third servile war in Roman times and a Constantine XI claiming to be the last Byzantine Emperor before Byzantium fell. Both men appeared at least a good 50 years before their supposed future counterparts lived and claimed to have been similarly struck by the same dual spell in the midst of battle as she and Connla had. What was even more interesting was that the men the two alleged time travellers claimed to be were at the epicenter of major world-changing conflicts less than half a century later much like Connla had been and much like her future counterpart would potentially be.

The suggestion that there were others out there who the Morrigan had seen fit to… displace… much like they had with her – even if it were only the barest mention in history books – settled some of her lingering uncertainty that what had happened to her was real and that beings such as the Morrigan did exist.

In her repetitive perusal of Connla's journal, she'd also discovered that he'd been bound by an oath to the goddess to avert the bloody events leading to his first death – even if he'd been killed much earlier in his second timeline – and he'd described the changes from his first life to his second in detail. Something that had prompted Hermione to request a notebook from Abraxas so she could write down everything she knew about Voldemort's first rise to power and then the adventures of her school years. She made a point to write on only one side of the paper so she could annotate any changes to the timeline on the opposite page and keep track of her progress.

She'd charmed the notebook so only she could read it and hexed it for good measure. Actually… she'd gotten Abraxas to hex it so that the hex would work on Tom as well because she knew the nosy prat would try to break the enchantment and after the invasion of the privacy of her mind she didn't trust him not to poke his nose where it was unwelcome.

In another notebook – also charmed and hexed – she was devising a detailed plan that would hopefully accomplish what the Morrigan wanted: the prevention of excessive bloodshed. Arithmancy equations were scribbled in the margins as she tried to predict optimal outcomes. Since they kept insisting Dumbledore was important to her mission and her calculations suggested that eliminating Dumbledore's power base would effectively avert a good deal of the excessive loss of life in her timeline, her plan to deal with his manipulations was at the top of her list of things to change.

However, all the planning in the world couldn't help her when she was so isolated from the events she wanted to change. So, she'd started stealing the morning Prophet off of Abraxas every day, reading it, scribbling notes and equations into her notebook, and muttering under her breath about beetles and poor reporting skills while Abraxas looked on bemusedly.

With Tom taking up less of her time she found herself gravitating to a few of the other eventual Death Eaters taking up semi-permanent residence in Malfoy Manor. She found she especially liked Thoros Nott, remembering his son Theodore to be a quiet and studious boy in Slytherin in her time. Of all the Slytherin boys, he'd probably been the least offensive of the lot, and the only one she hadn't heard hissing slurs at her as she'd passed in the halls.

Thoros himself was louder and more outspoken than she remembered Theodore being, but with a sharp wit that matched her own. He'd drifted into the library one day after Tom had left for work and spent a memorable hour helping her sort through the library for useful reference materials on the Deathly Hallows. She also found herself spending time with Tom's _friends_ – for lack of a better word – after dinner each evening, reluctant to go back to the chambers she shared with Tom and sit with him in awkward silence or stilted conversation until it was late enough to lock herself in her bedroom.

She jolted awake as the library door opened softly. The wariness of being on the run and in hiding for a year hadn't worn off and she was a lighter sleeper than she had ever been before. Her eyes flickered open, expecting Tom returning home from work and instead seeing an aristocratic boy with straight black hair eerily similar to Sirius Black before he'd gone to Azkaban.

Her heart hammering, she sat upright, and stared at the boy unable to believe she was seeing a dead man. "Sirius?" she breathed, standing unsteadily and running to throw her arms around him tightly.

The boy staggered under her assault and caught her reflexively. "Wah?" he gasped as she burrowed against him, "Miss, I'm sorry… I don't know who you are…"

Hermione felt her face flush and she backpedalled spectacularly as she realized she'd lost herself in the future for a moment, and this young man, like Abraxas, was a predecessor to someone she'd known in her own time. Only this time, instead of being someone she was not emotionally attached to, this was someone who achingly reminded her of the friends she'd lost.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, "I… wasn't expecting… I thought you were someone else. I'm sorry." She looked past the boy to see Tom leaning in the doorway watching her keenly and felt her already red cheeks heat up even more. His eyes glittered with jealously and she felt a spike of fear shoot through her as he watched her. "Tom," she tried to say calmly and failed miserably, her voice coming out high pitched and breathless.

"Hermione," he replied coolly, "I see you've met Orion Black. Orion, my fiancé Hermione Granger-Malfoy." He walked over to her and slung an arm around her waist possessively. She struggled to supress the urge to shake the arm off and felt him dig his fingers into her side warningly. She repressed her wince and stopped fidgeting immediately, understanding that she was to play her role.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Black," she murmured, curtseying slightly. "I hope you'll excuse my reaction upon meeting you. You reminded me of someone I used to know." Orion was examining her curiously and she turned her face to regard Tom, trying to ignore the way his eyes roved over her and how Tom's arm tightened around her waist.

"But of course, Hermione," Orion replied, "May I call you Hermione?"

"Y-yes, I suppose so," she stammered, glancing at Tom, who shrugged slightly.

"What are you still doing up here, love?" Tom murmured as he pulled her closer and kissed the side of her head in a jealous show of possessiveness, "I would have thought you'd be at supper."

"Supper?" Hermione whispered, looking around bewildered, "What time is it?"

"Almost 6…" Tom said looking amused, "Did you get lost in these dusty tomes again?"

She smiled thinly at him. "Not today," she said quietly, "I must have dozed off…" She glanced over at the couch she'd been curled up on and noticed the blanket pooled on the cushion where she'd been sitting for the first time. "I guess they didn't want to bother me when they came to collect me for dinner." Tom followed her gaze and his expression softened slightly at the sight of the blanket lying there.

"Probably," he murmured, "You haven't been sleeping well recently." A week ago, he would have followed his observation by brushing his thumb over the bags under her eyes. Now, his hand twitched with his desire to do just that, but he repressed the urge and settled for squeezing her waist slightly.

"No, I haven't," she responded, just as Orion broke off their private discussion with a cough.

"Ah, right," Tom said, "We were just about to grace everyone with our presence at dinner, weren't we Orion?"

Orion shrugged. "As long as I get to drown myself in fire whiskey before the night is through, I don't are what we do now."

"Fire whiskey?" Hermione asked, glancing between the two with raised eyebrows.

"Orion here, needs to celebrate his engagement to the lovely Walburga Black," Tom said with an evil glint in his eye.

Orion pulled a sour face and shuddered dramatically. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and he blew a breath out his nose. "I think you mean lament my engagement to that psychotic hag," he muttered, "No thanks to Tom…"

Tom sighed and raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I didn't realize the rings were charmed so that they couldn't be removed after the engagement was sealed when I delivered them to your parents."

If Hermione hadn't spent most of a month almost solely in Tom's company, she might have thought the gesture was genuine. As it was she didn't think Tom was remotely sorry or that he'd delivered the rings to Orion's parents in ignorance to the enchantments on them. The entire thing reeked of Tom's manipulations. She couldn't say anything though without incurring Tom's wrath and so she bit her tongue.

"Your parents forced you into an engagement?" she asked again, wincing in sympathy.

Orion's response was a bitter laugh. "And yours didn't?" he retorted.

Hermione flinched and glanced at Tom who was still ostensibly her fiancé. He raised a challenging eyebrow at her which caused her to swallow hard and avert her eyes from Orion. "No," she said, "They were murdered by Grindelwald's men." The lie slid off her tongue evenly as practiced behind closed doors with Tom when they'd sorted out her cover story weeks earlier. So many people disappeared or were murdered mysteriously in the wake of Grindelwald's rise to power that it made sense to add two more to the death toll. "Abraxas was kind enough to reinstate me to the family and I met Tom. Since he doesn't exactly have family to arrange such things and I'm tainted by my mother's reputation, I am not obliged to make a _good_ marriage, as they say."

"I'm sure Tom would be considered a good marriage by any standards, even if his last name is not one of good standing," Orion rebutted.

Hermione laughed and looked at Tom. "I've been told I could do worse," she whispered, noting the yearning expression lingering behind Tom's mask. She knew he wanted their relationship to take up back where they'd left off a week ago, but she couldn't let him off the hook that easily. He'd betrayed her. _Hurt_ her even though she'd done nothing to cause him to think she'd stop helping him. She kept her expression carefully neutral as she met his gaze and felt her stomach swoop as disappointment flickered behind his eyes before he shuttered the emotion and turned back to wooing Orion.

Orion, oblivious to the silent exchange of his host and Hermione, laughed bitterly again. "At least he isn't a second cousin," he muttered.

"Oh, that's—" Hermione cut herself off before she could finish her sentence. She had been about to say _That's right_. She'd forgotten Sirius' parents were second cousins and wondered – not for the first time – how Sirius had turned out even half normal between the incest, the insane mother, and an extended stay in Azkaban.

"Incestuous?" Orion asked and she blushed as she nodded, embarrassed.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her curiously, obviously discerning that wasn't what she'd intended to say but recognizing now wasn't the time or place to pursue his curiosity. "Ahem," Tom murmured, "I believe dinner was in order."

HG*TR

Tom caught her arm as he ushered Orion into the dining room. "What was all that about?" he hissed in her ear, "What's up with you tonight?"

She shrugged. "He startled me," she said a moment later, "I haven't interacted with the ancestor of anyone I was close with since I arrived, ok? I didn't expect you to bring any of them home with you."

"He startled you?" Tom whispered incredulously, his fingers digging into her arm harshly.

"Yes," she hissed, "And I _know_ you fucked Orion over and he doesn't even realize it. I don't believe that you didn't know the rings were charmed when you delivered them for a second. And instead of being a _decent human_ being and warning the poor boy, you just couldn't resist taking the path that would solidify your power base. The woman he marries? His second cousin? She's bat crazy – or will be once she's had two kids. She'll abuse her eldest because his aspirations don't fit hers and blast him off the family tree when he decides he's had enough of her crap and pushes back."

"Hermione," Tom warned her and she trembled slightly at the tone, her righteous indignation dissipating as she looked up into his face. There was anger there but concern as well. She sagged slightly against him, completely drained.

"I… can't do this right now," she whispered as a million conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Her despair for Orion's unhappy marriage, and Sirius' abusive childhood. Her fear of Tom clashed with her anger at him for being a manipulative bastard. And she _still_ wanted him to comfort her because despite everything he'd done last week she still wanted the (false) security he offered her on some level. To top it all off, her oath to the Morrigan hung over her head like a slowly tightening noose and she could feel her opportunity to change the future slipping away. She sighed and pulled her arm from Tom's grip.

Tom blinked. "So what? You're just going to go to bed?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "Tell them I'm not feeling well or something." When Tom looked mutinous she raised her eyes to his in a challenge. "I'm liable to slip at any moment here Tom," she warned him icily, "Take your chances if you want…"

"Fine," he snapped, "Fine. But if I find you anywhere except our chambers, Hermione…"

She nodded and turned to go back up to Tom's suite. As she went, she felt the leash binding her to him tighten and twitch. On a whim, she attempted to deviate from her course and smirked deprecatingly when the binding prevented her. _You don't even trust me that much, huh?_ she thought as she turned the knob to his suite.

HG*TR

"What is keeping you child?" Badb's mocking voice jarred her as she blinked and found herself in the cavern again. At least it was the cavern and not the battlefield Hogwarts became, she thought as she turned to look at the warrior aspect of the Morrigan wearily.

"Please, not tonight," she whispered, "I've had a shite day. Tom brought Sirius' father home with him, intent on recruiting the poor sod, and we got into a fight. Can't you just lay off for one night? I know I need to act. I _know_. I have a plan but with Tom and I being out of sorts, it's hard for me to put it in motion."

"You're running out of time," Macha snapped.

"I fucking know!" Hermione screamed, "I can feel my opportunity slipping away every second of every day but I'm not the sort of person who acts impulsively. I'm _not_ Harry! I need to make sure I've accounted for everything in my calculations."

"You can't," Nemain spoke this time and Hermione glared at the wild haired goddess as she appeared behind her.

"Fuck you," she hissed angrily. Nemain merely grinned at her and Hermione scowled.

"Tonight," Macha's voice hissed, "You will implement your plan tonight."

"And if I don't?" Hermione snapped obstinately, "What then?"

"Opportunities are lost, and blood is spilled," three voices breathed. The warning in their tone caused Hermione to flinch backward, smacking her head off the blood-slick cavern wall.

HG*TR

Hermione screamed as the door to Tom's suite banged shut behind him, waking her from a deep slumber. She looked around the sitting room, wildly disoriented, as Tom surveyed her dishevelled state. "Rough night?" he drawled, evidently still irritated by her refusal to go to dinner and help woo Orion.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples as a migraine threatened to explode there. "You have no idea," she whispered, "I must have dozed off."

"A developing habit, I noticed," Tom sneered as he approached her.

She glared at him. "What the fuck is your problem tonight?" she snapped.

"You almost slipped," he snarled accusingly, "You _did_ slip. Twice. If I hadn't been there…"

"I would have figured it out," she snarled back, "You're not always the smartest person in the room, Tom. I _can_ hold my own."

"Evidently," he sneered.

"Fuck you," she said, repeating her words to the Morrigan moments earlier. She was so _tired_ of everyone wanting something from her. If she wasn't chasing after Harry too make sure he didn't get himself into so much trouble he couldn't get himself out, she was fixing the mistakes of recalcitrant goddesses, or indulging the whims of burgeoning Dark Lords. When was there any time for herself? A switch seemed to turn off in her and she watched Tom stalk up to her detachedly.

She felt no emotion as Tom pinned her to the couch she was sitting on. His fingers pulsating around her neck and his mouth by her ear. "If that's what you want, _love_ ," he whispered.

"We both know you won't," she said unfeelingly, "You still want to seduce me, so we both know that if anything happens, it _will_ be consensual. Besides, we've already established that you're not a rapist. A power-hungry megalomaniac, yes, but not a rapist." Her brown eyes met his momentarily red ones calmly. As silence stretched between them, and he searched her eyes for answers, his eyes slowly reverted to their normal blue. A breath hissed out between his clenched teeth as he relinquished his stranglehold on her throat and shifted so he sat beside her on the couch.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and slouched back against the couch cushions. "How did we get here?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I dunno," she muttered, not really wanting to bring up the still open wounds from the week before. As Tom shifted uncomfortably beside her, she knew he too was remembering how he'd violated her, driving a chasm between them.

" _I'm sorry_ ," he whispered.

"I know," she replied, her eyes sliding shut to try and dam the tears that threatened to appear, "But as I told you last week, it's not enough. I can't even begin to describe how _violated_ you made me feel. Honestly, Tom, it was my _last_ sanctuary and you broke into it with a battering ram and started riffling through my most private thoughts and memories as if I wasn't even _entitled_ to their privacy anymore. And then, to make it all worse, you ripped away any pleasure I might get from a memory – the only thing I have left of my friends and family – just to make a point and win a _stupid_ argument."

He sighed and scrubbed the bridge of his nose. "I _know_ ," he said, "I'm trying here, Hermione, but you're not making it easy."

She stared at him incredulously. "Easy?" she squawked, her voice climbing in pitch as he winced, "Easy? Why the hell should I make it easy for you Tom? What you did was _wrong_ and you can't undo the harm you caused me with a couple of _apologies_ , even if I do believe they are the _only_ sincere ones to pass through your lips in your entire life."

She watched Tom bristle for a moment before he deflated and groaned, his head falling into palms that were hanging between his knees. "I am such an idiot sometimes," he muttered. She didn't bother responding as he dragged himself upright and turned toward her helplessly. "I… understand," he said, struggling to find the right words, "I _am_ sorry but I understand that's not enough. I'm not used to having a… partner. Someone… equal, whose feelings I have to consider."

Her eyes grew into stricken saucers as he spoke, completely blindsided by his admission. He considered her an equal and a partner? She wondered if it was a manipulation technique and steeled herself against the inclination she had to soften toward him and forgive him. He didn't deserve that yet, no matter what pretty words he used to try and wheedle his way back into her good books.

"Can you at least let me try to fix this?" His hands found hers and pulled them toward him, thumbs tracing circles on the back of her hands. He waited for her hesitant nod before he continued. "I know what happened last week put our plans on hold but I'd really like to move forward with them. I want to go after the Elder Wand. Help me, please?"

Hermione stared at him in stunned silence. Tom Riddle was asking for her help? "You want my help?" she asked incredulously.

Tom grit his teeth, unwilling to admit it a second time but nodded. "Please?" he whispered after another tense silence.

 **A/N: This will probably be my last update before Christmas so I hope everyone who celebrates Christmas or another holiday around this time of year has a lovely one. Thank you to all (30!) of my reviewers from the last two chapters. It's** _ **very**_ **late where I am right now (my eyes keep sliding shut…) so I won't list all of you in favour of posting this tonight before I go to bed, but I really do appreciate and read all of them.**

 **There will potentially not be another update until sometime after Jan. 8 2017. I am attending a conference Jan. 5-8 and will be presenting my own research for the first time in a conference setting so I am understandably nervous about that. So, if you don't hear from me until then, I promise I haven't abandoned this. I'm just going insane trying to make sure I'm ready for this conference. I** _ **might**_ **update if this story won't leave me alone and I need to get it out of my head so I can concentrate on getting my presentation ready. I just wanted to warn you since I think I've been pretty good about updating at least once a week thus far and I don't want anyone to worry… Honestly, I'm fine. It's just real life catching up for once.**

 **Sending love,**

 **flames**


	22. Pieces of a Puzzle

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from this.**

 **A/N: Happy New Year to all! You are just the loveliest people. Thank you for all the well-wishing on my presentation at the conference I attended. The conference was horrible but not in the ways one might expect… My presentation went well and I was pleased with the final product. The hotel and venue unfortunately, has been a nightmare… I might rant at the end of the chapter (I've been told it's a fairly entertaining story if you're not the person living it…) but I'll let you get one with the chapter in the meantime. Thanks, everyone for being so patient waiting for this update. It's slightly shorter than I'd hoped but I wanted to give you guys something for being so patient. Hopefully it was worth the wait…**

" _The truth never had any shades of grey – there was always a discernible line between black and white."_ ― Kenneth Eade, _Unreasonable Force_

Hermione breathed out a ragged breath as she considered Tom's plea for help. _Help_. Part of her wanted to spurn him for what he'd done the week before, but she'd never been a particularly vengeful person. Even when Ron had abandoned them in their hunt for horcruxes, a sort of betrayal that had hurt her far more than she could have anticipated, she hadn't managed to hold a grudge more than a couple of weeks past his return. She realized that she _might_ have hurt him (and used a curse that caused a lot more damage than a flock of birds) immediately after he dragged his sorry arse back to Harry and her, if Harry hadn't happened to be in possession of her wand at the time. But her rage had been short lived then, and while she was no less _upset_ about the incident with Tom, she was tired of being angry with him.

"Fine," she said, "I'll help. We can go after the Elder Wand." It suits my purposes anyway, she thought as she smiled thinly at Tom.

Tom didn't do anything so obvious as breathe a sigh of relief, but some of the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders melted away at her easy acquiescence. "What can you tell me about it?" he asked a beat later, obviously straining not to appear too eager or anxious.

She sighed, letting her head fall against the back of the couch with a dull thud. "Tonight? Really, Tom?" she whined, "Now?"

"We lost a week already," Tom reminded her, seemingly unable to _not_ mention the incident the week before that had shredded their tentative friendship. She sighed again and opened her eyes a slit to look at him. His eyes glimmered with desire. For a man who rarely bared his emotions openly, he was fairly vibrating with repressed energy and she knew that he'd not leave her alone until they'd at least come up with a plan to get the wand. As she contemplated brushing him off anyway, she felt something constrict around her chest and she gasped at the reminder of her vow to the Morrigan.

Tom shot her a concerned glance but didn't comment on her pained expression as she shot upright in her seat swearing under her breath. _I got the message_ , she thought irritably, _I have to do this tonight_. Out the window a flicker of red fur caught her eye and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the reminder that they were watching her. She inhaled deeply, trying to loosen spasming chest muscles, while she considered how she could manipulate the conversation so she could get Tom on board with the plan she'd been developing for the past week.

"By now Grindelwald will have it," she said eventually, surprised Tom was waiting for her to speak so patiently, "He's near the height of his power." The tightness in her chest immediately eased and she growled under her breath as she scanned the rapidly darkening landscape out the window for another glimpse of the wretched war goddess.

Tom bit his lip thoughtfully as he considered her words. "You said, weeks ago, that Dumbledore is responsible for his defeat."

"Yes," she said, "I don't know the details of their duel, though. I _suspect_ that Dumbledore pretended he wanted to join his ex-lover in his crusade in order to get close enough to disarm him, but that does little to explain how he neutralized Grindelwald's forces."

"Connections in the Wizengamot?" Tom suggested.

She shook her head slowly. "No, it's too simple," she muttered, "Because then that would be mentioned in the history books. But there's _nothing_. No eye-witness accounts, no detailed description of events… just a brief paragraph stating that he defeated Grindelwald and that's it."

Tom sighed and rubbed his temples thoughtfully. "Does it matter?" he asked, "I mean we're going to be eliminating the threat that Grindelwald presents before Dumbledore can get to him…" He trailed off as Hermione shot him a scathing expression that conveyed _exactly_ how dimwitted she thought he was being at the moment. His eyes flashed red at her silent condemnation of his intelligence and she rolled her eyes at him in exasperation.

" _Think_ Tom," she prompted impatiently, "Honestly, what is the easiest way to get to Grindelwald knowing what we know about him and Dumbledore?" The red flickered in Tom's eyes and vanished as he thought through what she'd already figured out.

"Follow Dumbledore…" he mused, "Which would mean he'd be there when we were…"

"Yes," Hermione said and jolted as she remembered something Harry had told her once. "Fifth year…" she muttered, "Dumbledore incapacitated almost all of the Death Eaters we were fighting pretty well simultaneously upon arriving at the fight. Ugh, if only I could remember what Harry told me about it… I'm not even sure if he really knew. He was pretty distraught over Sirius' death."

"Sirius is who you thought Orion was earlier?" Tom queried curiously.

Hermione flinched slightly as she was reminded of her near disastrous introduction to Sirius' father. "Yes," she muttered, staring into her lap, "Orion's eldest son, and Harry's godfather. He was disowned by his mother, Walburga, at the age of 16 because he refused to follow you and ran away from home – to Harry's father's house."

"So I guaranteed your Harry's godfather will still be born," Tom mused, and she glanced up at him to see an almost amused expression on his face. She flinched again as she realized he was amused because she was angry for not warning Orion about the rings, knowing that if he had Sirius would never be born.

"Yes," she hissed, "Ok? I get it. I'm a hypocrite. Can we return to our _engrossing_ conversation about how we're going to get the wand from Grindelwald?"

Tom laughed and she flushed angrily. "Dumbledore incapacitated almost all of the opponents you faced in the Department of Mysteries?" he obliged and Hermione felt herself relax as she realized he wasn't going to push the subject any farther.

"Yes, but I wasn't conscious by that point," she said, "Dolohov had cursed me by then."

"We'll research it," Tom murmured dismissively, "I'm sure we can find something equally effective, or we could employ Dolohov's imaginative mind to design a spell for our purposes and incapacitate him and Grindelwald first."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I think you need to consider how else we could benefit from this endeavour," she said, "We both agreed: Dumbledore is a significant player in this war, and we need to discredit him before he can gather the support and fame he holds in my time. If we can take away his primary claim to power, and discredit him for seedy associations in his youth at the same time…"

"We can neutralize him early on," Tom smirked and Hermione nodded, "Essentially kill two birds with one stone. Get the Elder wand and discredit Dumbledore at the same time."

"With the added benefit of solidifying your power base at the same time," Hermione pointed out, "You'll get the fame for defeating Grindelwald and the influence to go along with it."

She froze as Tom smirked at her and raised a hand to stroke the side of her face. "Oh, love," he murmured, "I was right the night you arrived. You're a splendidly useful asset." She swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond to his touch or to the realization that she was somehow ending up on the opposite side of the conflict this time around. And she wasn't even sure if it was the _wrong_ side anymore.

HG*TR

Hermione shivered as she apparated just outside the cemetery at Godric's Hollow. It was the first time she'd been any significant distance from Malfoy Manor since the Morrigan had taken it into their heads to transport her to the past three months earlier. She took a deep breath and looked around to take in the cemetery where she and Harry had visited the graves of his parents one grim Christmas Eve. She swallowed hard as she realized the graves they'd visited wouldn't exist yet. The people they'd belonged to hadn't even been born yet.

For the most part the sleepy village was the same as she remembered from that one disastrous visit at Christmastime. She breathed out slowly as she began to make her way up the quaint main street. Her steps faltered as she stopped by the front steps of Bathilda Bagshot's small cottage. After a long hesitant moment, she knocked on the door and waited anxiously for Ms. Bagshot to answer the door. When the door opened to reveal the withered and shrunken old lady, Hermione repressed the strong instinct she had to turn and run in the other direction. Overall, Bathilda Bagshot looked much better than the last time Hermione had seen her body being possessed by Lord Voldemort's massive snake, but there was enough resemblance that Hermione was immediately on guard.

"Ms. Bagshot?" Hermione murmured. At the elderly woman's nod, Hermione smiled slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I have long admired your work."

Bathilda grimaced and started to close the door of the house. "That's nice dearie, but I don't do interviews or appreciate fans showing up at my door uninvited," she said bluntly.

"Oh I'm sorry," Hermione said as she reached out to pause the steadily closing door, "I'm not here because I'm a fan or want an interview… Your nephew sent me."

"Gellert sent you here?" she quavered, the door's progress effectively stopped as Bathilda stared at her incredulously. "I haven't seen him… in, oh, decades…" she stammered, "I can't possibly think what he'd want after all this time."

"1898, to be exact, wasn't it?" Hermione replied, "He came here for the summer after he was expelled from Durmstrang. Befriended Albus Dumbledore?"

Bathilda smiled fondly. "Those two were so sweet," she murmured, "It's such a shame… well, I'm sure Ariana's death was a blow to both of them."

Hermione smiled uncomfortably, and gestured toward the interior of the house. "Might we continue this inside?" she asked.

Bathilda smiled. "Of course," she exclaimed, "Of course! How rude of me! Yes, you must come in and tell me what Gellert is getting up to these days."

Hermione forced an awkward smile onto her face as she followed Bathilda into the small sitting room. "Oh…" she stammered uncertainly. She forced her eyes to remain fixed on Bathilda's back, knowing that if she looked around the room, she'd start having flashbacks. Now that she was here she couldn't for the life of her remember why she'd insisted on being the one to come here and get the letters Dumbledore wrote to Grindelwald all those years ago. Tom had been rather adamant that she stay at the manor, and yet she'd stubbornly insisted until he'd relented.

"… _better if I go, for consistency," she'd argued, "I have to be the one to go to Dumbledore anyway. He'll suspect something if any of your cohort go in disguise and I'm the only one out of all of your cabal that he doesn't know… yet."_

 _Tom had ground his teeth in frustration. "I understand that," he hissed, "That doesn't mean I_ like _the idea of you confronting him alone or going to Bathilda Bagshot's cottage unsupervised."_

 _Hermione's lips pressed together thinly. "And why is that, Tom?" she asked, dangerously quiet. Harry and Ron, if they'd been around, would have looked at her and run in the other direction sputtering apologies. Tom merely blinked and she felt her face harden into a mask. "Because you don't trust me? Because I can assure you—"_

 _He cut her off abruptly by covering her mouth with his hand. "I trust you," he said, "And you're the only one who can go without taking this house of cards down around our ears, but you're also my most valuable asset and… Hermione… if anything were to happen to you…" She felt herself soften at the admission._

" _Ok," she said, "Ok. I understand. The…"_

" _Point still stands," Tom said wryly, "I know."_

"I'm not really sure… I'm just a business contact for him here in Britain. He only asked me to pick up a few items for him."

"Tea?" Bathilda asked and Hermione nodded as she felt around for a chair, still avoiding looking around the room.

"Please," Hermione said and watched the elderly woman totter away into the kitchen to fetch it. Left alone, the flashbacks she'd been staving off flooded over her in a rush.

" _It's ok," said Harry reassuringly as they followed Bathilda toward her cottage…_ She blinked and her eyes landed on the photo of Grindelwald, Harry had recognized from the moments he delved into Voldemort's mind. _"This picture Hermione, it's the thief!"_ She released a ragged breath, trying to get a hold of herself but knowing she wouldn't be able to shake them until she'd seen flashes of the entire incident.

" _She wants me to go with her alone." It'll be ok, hanging in the air between them unsaid as Harry followed Nagini disguised as the historian up the stairs… Fidgeting in the sitting room alone as she waited for Harry to return… Spotting that horrid Skeeter woman's biography on the mantle… Picking it up and putting it in her beaded bag just as she heard Harry's wordless shout upstairs… The pit in her stomach twisting as she realized it was a trap… Rushing up the stairs, blasting a hole in the wall, apparating her and Harry away…_ She blinked, breathing hard, to focus on Bathilda's trembling hand offering her a cup of tea.

"You ok dearie?" Bathilda asked in concern, "You weren't all there for a moment."

She shuddered. "Yeah," she muttered, "Sorry… I'm fine. Just lost in thought for a second…"

Bathilda smiled wanly at her. "Of course, dear," she murmured as Hermione carefully took the steaming cup from the her. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she sat down on the settee across from Hermione. "You said Gellert wanted something?"

Hermione jolted as she remembered her task. "Oh… yes," she said, "He was wondering if you still had those letters he received the summer he stayed with you. I know it's been decades…"

"Of course I do!" Bathilda exclaimed, standing up abruptly and tottering toward the stairs, "Silly boy! I was wondering when he'd want them! He and Albus were ever so close. Such a lovely boy, Albus… Such a shame about Ariana… Their friendship never was the same after that horrible day she died." She turned slightly as she reached the stairs and gestured for Hermione to follow her. "Come along dear, I know just where they are!"

Hermione froze as she watched Bathilda begin to climb the stairs. Her shoulders trembled slightly, convinced nothing good would come of going up there. _Don't be ridiculous,_ she hissed at herself, _You're helping him and he doesn't even have that blasted snake yet._ With a deep breath, she stood and slowly made her to the stairs and up them. She had to pause halfway because she lost control of her breathing and needed a moment to stop hyperventilating. Her breathing hitched again as she reached the head of the stairs and she took a deep breath to steady herself before she followed Bathilda into the guestroom.

Bathilda stood with her back to Hermione as she riffled through a beat-up chesterfield. "I'm sure I put them…" she muttered under her breath, "Ah, yes! Here they are!" She turned back to Hermione with a triumphant grin brandishing a sheath of parchment. "I'll give you all his old notes as well," she said, "I can't think why he would have left them here. Boys!" She finished with an exasperated head shake and Hermione smiled warmly at her. Even better, they could forge a note from Grindelwald's notes to blackmail Dumbledore and add authenticity to their ruse.

"Thank you, Ms. Bagshot," Hermione said, "You've been ever so helpful!"

"Oh, not a problem, dear," Bathilda smiled, "Not a problem!" They started down the stairs and came to an uncertain stop in the sitting room. "Well," Bathilda said looking around at the now cold tea, "If that was everything…"

Hermione nodded vigorously, eager to escape Bathilda's cottage. "It was," she gushed, "Thank you again. Gellert will be ever so pleased to get these back. And… I should actually get going." Bathilda looked relieved and moved to the door as eagerly as Hermione felt.

"Tell that boy to send his Auntie a letter or two," Bathilda chided, "It's been years since I've heard from him!"

Hermione nodded earnestly. "I will," she lied, "Thank you again." She sagged with relief as she exited the cottage and spun away back to the manor.

HG*TR

Antonin grunted as Tom passed by his desk in the library for the _thousandth_ time. He didn't know what Tom had planned other than it hinged on being able to immobilize and subdue a large number of assailants simultaneously and he had been given the task of figuring out how to that either by finding a spell that would in one of these dusty tomes, or creating one. If it meant getting away from Tom's fidgeting, Antonin was seriously considering throwing in the towel and heading off into some forgotten recess of the manor to experiment.

He didn't even know what had gotten Tom in such a snit to begin with. Honestly, his and Abraxas' little foundling should be fine out on her own for an hour or two. He wasn't an idiot; he knew what Tom and Hermione got up to by the duck pond, and he'd admit (under duress) that it was impressive magic.

He glared as Tom made another pass by his table, his concentration _shattered_ by this point in time. His eyes flickered down to look at the page he'd flipped to in an ancient book of defensive and offensive charms that had lookeduseful when he'd picked it off its shelf. He wouldn't know, of course, considering he'd been interrupted every other second since he'd sat down. He growled as quiet snickers floated over to his corner of the library from where Abraxas and Orion sat playing a game of chess, breaking his concentration again.

His book slammed shut with a loud snap and he glared at the three imbeciles he was being forced to share the supposedly _quiet_ space because Tom didn't trust him enough to let him out of sight while his pretty little fiancée cavorted merrily through the countryside. Honestly, he'd learned his lesson weeks ago, and, after spying on the two of them by the duck pond, he'd happily live out his days without _ever_ crossing wands with either Tom or the little spitfire. Or at least not crossing wands with them until precisely the _right_ moment.

Orion Black was another irritation that had sprouted like a weed. Antonin had spent _weeks_ earning Tom's trust and weaseling his way into his cabal, eager to be in on the power to be achieved riding on Tom's coattails. Orion had achieved as much – and more – in a matter of hours. Since he'd been introduced at dinner two nights previously, he'd been over at Malfoy Manor almost every waking moment.

And Antonin knew Orion was unhappy about his engagement. He'd gone to school with Walburga and she was a distasteful hag with no empathy for others. She'd suck the happiness right out of Orion's life but that's what wives _did_ , so Antonin had no sympathy for the spoiled brat who was barely old enough to use magic outside of school.

Besides, he wasn't sure where the appeal of worming his way into Tom's affections came from for Orion… The boy _had_ to realize that Tom had something to do with his forced engagement. Maybe Tom hadn't arranged the engagement or ordered the rings but he'd definitely _known_ about the enchantment on the rings when he'd delivered them. Only an idiot could think that Tom had actually told the _truth_ when he'd denied knowing anything about the rings.

He grimaced as Tom's little witch finally made her reappearance, and watched critically as the tension melted from Tom and Abraxas' shoulders. That girl was going to be their downfalls. She was fast becoming their biggest weakness. Affection made people weak. It made it easier to hurt them. If Antonin didn't know what the girl could do with and without her wand, he'd use her against them in a heartbeat. He still would but he had to figure out her weakness first.

 **A/N: Thank you readers and reviewers alike for all of your support! There were 20 (!) reviews last chapter and I am beyond thrilled. I'm going to post this tonight because my obligations at the conference are essentially at an end (my talk was today and went well). This chapter was shorter than I'd hoped but tomorrow I will be flying back home (Thank god…) and I'm planning on writing during that so hopefully I will have another chapter or two ready for you guys before the end of the week.**

 **I'm going to try updating twice this week but it'll depend on how writing goes so don't hold me to that...**

 **With love,**

 **A very tired,**

 **Flames**

 **P.S. (For those interested in my conference accommodations nightmare…)**

 **The Hotel Horror Story:**

 **There's the long version and the short version and I'll try to keep this as short as possible, unless everyone would like to hear about it in more detail… Essentially, we found a single bedbug in our room but were unable to find anymore. We switched rooms anyway and the hotel sent all our belongings away for dry cleaning to prevent spread of an infestation. Switched rooms again because the hotel didn't have a room we could stay for the entire duration for our conference anymore. Dry cleaning came back, my expensive, $200 CAD present-to-myself black leather boots were ruined (toe was peeling away from the sole). New room has a mysterious wet patch on the outside of the bathroom wall (We refused to switch rooms when we told the hotel management). The hotel is paying for the repairs to my boots and deducted a measly $50 from our room fees, which I honestly feel is not enough seeing as $50 is less than 1/3 of a night's stay and we've been severely inconvenienced but at this point I'm too tired to care. We're leaving tomorrow and I am SO HAPPY because all I want to do is leave this version of hell. I just want to go home, curl up on my bed and die slowly… The End.**


	23. Preparation and Procrastination

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **A/N: As another treat in addition to this early update, I've posted the scene where Orion gets engaged in the deleted scenes fic (linked through my profile) since I had it half-written at the time of posting Ch. 20 and then took it out because I wanted to move the plot along. Enjoy!**

 _There's a moment when love makes you believe in death for the first time. You recognize the one whose loss, even contemplated, you'll carry forever, like a sleeping child. All grief, anyone's grief...is the weight of a sleeping child._ _\- Fugitive Pieces,_ Anne Michaels

Hermione panted as she was thrown against the tree _hard_. Tom's sharp voice snapped through the clearing. " _Again._ And at least _try_ to show me you're trying here, Hermione."

Hermione groaned and peeled herself from the ground painfully. They'd been at this for _hours_ and Tom had been pounding her relentlessly. She staggered to her feet and sank into a fighting stance, glancing longingly to where her wand had been discarded by the duck pond. She grunted as Tom sent a mild stinging hex at her and ducked awkwardly to avoid it. She hissed with pain as his second, stronger hex hit her directly in the chest.

"Dammit, Tom!" she snarled, "I wasn't ready!"

"I doubt Dumbledore or Grindelwald would wait for you to be ready," Tom sneered. She glowered at him as she rubbed her chest were the swelling welt stung.

"Give me a wand and you'll be lying flat on your back in seconds, Riddle," she spat.

Tom laughed and shot a rapid series of cutting hexes her way, watching as she twisted and turned to avoid them. One caught her arm and she hissed as a series of small cuts lacerated her skin. "The point," he said calmly, "Is that you might not have a wand. Either of them might disarm you easily. What then, Hermione?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't kill me," she snarled, "Disable me? Probably. Grindelwald… I have no idea. Maybe he'd keep me as a pet, kinda like you. How did you describe me initially? A wonderfully useful toy?"

Her snarky answer startled a laugh out of him and he staggered backward as she managed to concentrate long enough to send a wandless hex his direction. "Better," he praised, unbothered by the hit she'd landed. "You are," he chuckled, "But I don't share, so Grindelwald will have to find his own toy from the future to play with."

She snorted and ducked again as he sent a wave of hexes toward her. Some of them fairly nasty. She swore as she let one of the milder ones hit her so she could avoid a particularly nasty blood boiling curse. "I thought you said nothing lethal, Tom!" she shrieked.

"Not lethal," Tom countered boredly, "Potentially lethal if the counter-charm is administered quickly enough."

She swore again, viciously. "Give me my goddamn wand!" she snapped, causing Tom to chuckle at her.

"Is your wand your source of magic?" Tom asked, "Or are you?"

"Me," she snapped as she rolled to avoid another lazy hex.

"Then prove it," Tom taunted, "Show me the power at your disposal and we can stop."

"I …can't concentrate… with you… trying… to hurt me," she gasped as she ducked behind a tree to avoid a _bombarda_.

"I thought you were a fighter," he taunted her, "Or was all that talk of being a decent duellist just Gryffindor bravado?"

"With a wand!" she shrieked.

"And my issue is that you might not have your wand, and if you can't defend yourself without one, you're not leaving the manor again until you can," Tom argued, "We're pitting ourselves against very powerful and dangerous wizards and I _will not_ lose you because you were unable to block a hex because you were disarmed. I _know_ you're capable of this. We practice wandless magic here all the time."

"Not the same… thing," she spat, still dodging his volley of spells, "Besides… I'd like to… see you… hold out… as long… without a wand…"

"Beat me and we'll find out," Tom challenged her.

She swore again and rolled, her form shimmering as she managed to disillusion herself wandlessly. "Better," Tom called, searching for her, tracking her previous trajectory with his eyes and searching for the outline of her form as she moved through the forest. He shot a couple of jinxes toward her most likely location, pleased when she managed to either be unpredictable enough to realize that was not a good location to hide, or evade them.

He was so caught up in searching for her that he didn't even notice the roots slowly climbing up his legs, binding him, until they'd reached his waist. He laughed at her ingenuity and began to dismember the vines only to discover that every severed vine sprouted three more that grew twice as quickly. Seconds later he was completely encumbered by the foliage, unable to move even slightly. He felt her pluck his wand from his hand and press the tip to his throat.

"Concede," she demanded breathlessly.

He laughed. They'd agreed she couldn't use her own wand but never said anything about using other people's wands. "Very good," he praised, "Clever even."

The wand tip dug into his throat harder. "Concede," she enunciated, "Or I leave you here to figure out how to get yourself free."

"What if your opponent can do wandless magic?" he asked, beginning to focus his will on getting free.

" _Ligabis magicae_ ," she snapped and Tom felt his magical core drain away. The feeling left him breathless and lightheaded.

"Fuck, Hermione," he ground out angrily. He disliked the helplessness the spell invoked. He felt naked without access to his magical core, which she'd just bound using an old incantation they'd discovered in one of Abraxas' books. Since the spell didn't harm him, the binding he'd placed on her when she'd arrived didn't prevent the spell from taking effect when she cast it on him. "Release me."

"Concede Tom," she said, "I learned my lesson last time. I'm not letting you go until you do."

He chuckled. The last time she'd managed to best him, she'd released him before he'd surrendered and he'd turned around and attacked her without warning. His reasoning after, had been that an enemy wouldn't hesitate to double cross her and without a formal surrender there was nothing to stop them attacking her if she released them.

"I concede the match," he said formally and sighed as she freed the binding on his magical core and let the vines relax their stranglehold on him. She sighed and flung herself down by the water, stripping her shoes and socks off to dip her feet in the cool water.

She passed him his wand as he sank down beside her. Her shoulders heaved with exertion and he chuckled again as he flicked a lock of sweat-drenched hair from her shoulder. She mock-glared at him and he grinned. "Impressive," he said and she smiled at him, some of the careless comradery they'd shared a couple of weeks ago bridging the chasm that had formed between them in the wake of his reckless invasion of her mind.

"We need to move more quickly," she said. He grimaced. He'd been delaying in the week since she'd gone to Bathilda Bagshot's for the letters Dumbledore had sent Grindelwald 50 years earlier. The thought of letting her go to blackmail Dumbledore on her own did not sit well with him, especially knowing the wizard's mastery of legimancy and advanced spellwork. Dumbledore was not a man to be trifled with and Tom didn't want to risk Hermione in any way. She was only useful to him alive. Letting her go to Bathilda Bagshot's – a frail and elderly witch – had been one thing. Letting her go see one of the most powerful and dangerous wizards in England was a completely different matter.

"The forged blackmail letter has been ready for three days, Tom," she pressed when he didn't say anything, "We need to act. I just bested you, without a wand, seven times out of ten. I even bested you in the last three rounds after you drilled me for _hours._ "

"I don't like it," Tom muttered, "I _can't_ protect you there."

"I _know_ ," she snapped, "I'm not helpless! I think I can hold my own against Dumbledore if it comes to that."

"Thinking is not the same as knowing," he retorted stubbornly, "I want to _know_ you'll be able to hold your own."

Her lips thinned. "Well you won't until you let me go find out," she responded bitterly, "I would have thought you'd be all over this. You want that wand, Tom. I know you do. And the only way – the best way – to retrieve it is through this plan. For all your ambitions, I would have thought you'd be more eager to act. We're running out of time."

"Calculated risks, Hermione," Tom said, "The benefits of having that wand will be negligible if you're killed. If you had a horcrux…"

" _No_ ," Hermione snarled, her face contorting with rage and disgust at the mere suggestion, "I will _not_ desecrate my soul for the sake of your peace of mind. I prefer my soul whole, thank you very much."

" _Hermione_ ," Tom sighed, "It—"

"No," she snapped, "No, you can defend your decision to yourself all you want. I won't judge you for your choice. But I will _not_ make one of those _vile_ things myself. I absolutely refuse."

"Bu—"

" _I said no!_ " she screamed. She bolted up from the pond, water splashing everywhere as she turned to face him, angry tears streaming down her face. Her breasts heaved with emotion as she tried to reign in a variety of strong emotions. Tom could see anger, and disgust… and fear?

"I went through hell," she said in a more moderate tone. Almost calmly and if it weren't for the slight waver in her voice, Tom might have thought she'd gotten her emotions under control. "I went through hell and back," she said in a slightly stronger voice, "to destroy yours in the old timeline. They were _not_ easy to find or destroy. I wore one around my neck for months because we had no way to destroy it and we were afraid to leave it lying around. I felt the darkness leak into pockets of myself and taint me, mock me because I could never break a part of myself so vital willingly. I _never_ want to touch one again."

Her eyes fixed on his ring as she said this and his own flickered down to look at the innocuous ring sitting on his right-hand ring finger. Suddenly he realized she'd never touched it, never even looked at it unless she had to. The only time she'd ever acknowledged it had been when she'd told him about the Hallows and their fabled powers if combined. He'd thought for sure she'd ask to see the stone, inspect it to see what enchantments might be on it as she had the cloak, but she'd never shown any interest in it. In fact, she seemed to cringe away from it, avoid it, and he suddenly understood that it was because of what it was now. What it housed.

He swallowed hard, wondering if she saw him any differently because he'd deemed the cost acceptable. That he considered murder an acceptable price to live forever. Surely not, because she'd known upon arriving here what he'd done to make them. But he didn't know what else to say because he _needed_ her protected as well. For her knowledge of future events, for her analytical mind, but also for herself, because he'd grown to care for her. "I can't lose you," he said, startlingly honest and vulnerable. Her eyes widened in shock.

"You don't mean that," she said shakily, "You can't mean that in any capacity other than my value to you as a tool. What I can help you achieve with my knowledge."

"No," he protested, and watched her shake her head in denial, knowing there was no way she'd ever believe him.

"You don't," she said with certainty as the fight drained out of her and her shoulders slumped. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and started walking back to the manor. He watched her go, trying to figure out when she'd started to mean so much to him that he'd put his ambitions on hold to keep her safe.

HG*TR

Orion watched curiously as Hermione walked back from the gardens alone, looking an awful mess. Her hair was frizzy and poofed out in an unmanageable mess. Mud splattered the hem on her yellow dress, as though she'd jumped into a mud puddle, and she was barefoot. Her face was blotchy and red like she'd been crying as well. He looked past her to see if Tom was following and frowned when he saw no sign of her handsome fiancé. Had they gotten into a fight?

He had to admit, the small witch intrigued him and her relationship with Tom was probably one of the most fascinating aspects to him. Everything seemed to be either hot or cold with them. Most of the time she was cool and composed around Tom, despite their obvious chemistry. Perfectly cordial, but a tight tension coiled between the pair. At least on her end. Other times, it was as though she was hyper-aware of Tom, watching him critically even as she was in deep conversation with another. And occasionally, whatever issues the couple had seemed to evaporate as she leaned into Tom's every touch, reciprocating with her own, giving into the chemistry they both obviously felt.

Watching her snap out of those little episodes was probably the most intriguing part. It was as though she'd caught herself doing something she shouldn't, as though she hated herself for liking the man she was meant to marry. Orion couldn't understand it. If he had as much natural chemistry with his betrothed… Bloody hell, if he could even tolerate the hag, it would make his life so much easier.

Then there was the way she'd greeted him the night they'd met a week earlier. She'd hugged him like they were old friends, even though he'd never seen her in his life. And when she'd realized he wasn't who she'd thought he was, it was as though reality came crashing down upon her and gates clattered over her façade. Several times throughout that first conversation, he'd felt as though she changed what she was going to say as she said it. And upon later occasions, there was almost always a flicker of… something… suggesting she forgot who he was for an instant.

As she got closer he called out to her softly. "Hermione?" She jerked to a halt and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Orion?" she asked, scrubbing her face with the back of her hand frantically, "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for Tom," he said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

She seemed to sag at his question. "I just left him," she replied dully, staring at the ground, "We were out by the duck pond. If he's still there, you can't miss him."

"Thanks," he said, turning to go find Tom. Something in her expression made him pause and he asked hesitantly, "Are you ok?"

She jolted and her breath hissed out in a long, slow exhalation. "Yes, thank you," she said, forcing a smile onto her face, "Tom's just stubborn sometimes and I get worked up over silly things." Orion got the feeling there was more to the story than she was letting on, but was also intuitive enough to know he wasn't going to get anything substantial out of her.

He nodded and smiled again, taking off across the lawn slowly. "As long as your sure," he said. She nodded sharply, watching him go. He smiled and waved slightly at her before turning his attention back to finding Tom.

HG*TR

"I don't know what to do," Tom groaned, his face cradled by his hands. He was sitting in the study with Abraxas, who stared at him with crossed arms and an unsympathetic expression fixed on his face.

"I don't even know why you're doing this in the first place," Abraxas said, "I think it's a fucking awful plan."

Tom glared at the wizard who was probably his closest friend. "Don't tell Hermione that," he warned the blonde wizard, "You should see the notes she's taken planning this out to every last detail, predicting the likelihood of every eventuality she can think of."

"And?" Abraxas asked impatiently.

"I hate the idea that I can't go with her," Tom said, "What if she betrays me? Outs my plans to the old fool?"

"And go to all this trouble, simply to double cross you?" Abraxas asked skeptically, "Haven't you checked her arithmancy?"

"Triple-checked it," Tom muttered.

"And?"

"It's all sound. If it works – and it has a damn good chance of working – we'd be in possession of all three Hallows, be responsible for Grindelwald's defeat, and discredit Dumbledore in one fell swoop."

"So what's stopping you?" Abraxas asked, not even really sure why he was here. Tom didn't get this conflicted over decisions and Abraxas had been vocal in his disapproval of this plan since Hermione and Tom had first proposed it. If Tom wanted someone to talk him into proceeding, Abraxas was not his man.

"Hermione," Tom's anguish made Abraxas want to laugh, "The probability of her possibly getting hurt is higher than I'd like."

At that, Abraxas did laugh. "Oh mate," he chuckled at Tom's offended expression, "You've got it so bad. Does she even know?"

"No," Tom snapped, "And she won't ever." Abraxas sobered as he took in Tom's appearance. The tensed shoulders and clenched fists. Ruffled hair and haunted eyes. So, he'd tried to tell her why he was stalling and she'd rebuffed him, Abraxas thought wearily. Wonderful. As if there wasn't enough tension between the two already.

Abraxas sighed and leaned against the desk beside Tom. "She's coming around you know," he said, "You just have to be patient."

There was a long silence as Tom contemplated his options. "Tomorrow," he said finally, looking up at Abraxas with trepidation, "We'll implement everything tomorrow. She's right. We've waited too long. If we wait any longer, we'll miss our chance."

HG*TR

"Tomorrow."

Hermione jolted as she heard Tom's voice behind her. She felt butterflies start fluttering in her stomach as the single word sank in. She would be going to confront Dumbledore tomorrow.

"Great," she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder briefly, "Finally." She turned back to the window and stared out of it blankly. When she turned back, Tom had disappeared into some other part of the manor, leaving her alone again.

She sighed. Their conversation in the Glade had gotten out of hand earlier and both of them had walked away with hurt feelings. She just couldn't believe he thought she'd ever consider ripping her soul apart to achieve immortality. That, or that he actually _cared_ for her beyond how she could help him achieve his goals. She sniffled a bit because, despite everything, she wished he did.

 **A/N: This is a gift for all you lovely people for being so patient with me over the holidays. I'm going to try to crank out another chapter before the end of the week but it might not happen. I'll get back to my usual weekly schedule sometime soon.**

 **To everyone who reviewed. Thank you. You made my terrible time last week that much brighter (There is a light at the end of the tunnel…).**

 **Love,**

 **flames**


	24. Becoming the Puppet Master

**Disclaimer: The usual.**

 **A/N: I just finished reading Rupi Kaur's** _ **milk and honey**_ **this morning, just before I wrote most of this chapter. It took me an hour tops to get through and I probably sat there speechless for about fifteen minutes when I finished. It's poetry (and I realize many don't like reading poetry) but… wow. It was incredible. Very frank in some poems, others subtle, some dark and disturbing, others lighthearted… Poignant. Every poem just hit me in waves…**

 **Anyway… I just had to say something about my experience this morning. Now... what everyone has anxiously been waiting for... Hope everyone enjoys this!**

 _love made the danger_

 _in you look like safety_

\- Rupi Kaur, _milk and honey_

Hermione swallowed hard as Tom surveyed her critically. Abraxas, Orion, and Dolohov watched the inspection from the sitting area in the drawing room where they'd congregated to go over the plan one last time and make sure she looked presentable for a meeting with Dumbledore. She cleared her throat as the silence stretched out and Tom's head snapped up to meet her eyes.

"Well?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest. Her eyes flickered to the others to take in Orion's approving, Abraxas' worried, and Dolohov's disgusted gazes. Tom sighed and blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"The plan?" he asked coolly and she rolled her eyes as he made her recite their plan back to him line by line. As she finished, he sighed again and held out two scrolls of parchment. "Fine," he sighed. She took the scrolls hesitantly and squeezed his hand gently.

"Everything's going to be fine," she murmured. Tom's eyes clouded and Abraxas' brow furrowed in worry.

"It better be," Tom growled. He pulled her into a rough embrace. Despite the distance she'd been keeping since they'd made up, she let him hug her, understanding he needed the reassurance. Once her released her, Abraxas crowded in to do the same. "Meet me in the Hag's Hood in Knockturn Alley at 11 or as soon as your meeting is finished."

She nodded seriously and turned to leave.

HG*TR

Hermione staggered as she appeared in Hogsmeade. Memories – good and bad – crowded her mind demanding attention. She closed her eyes against them, blocking them out. Tom had been coaching her for the past week in occlumency, and her ability to keep her memories under control and her mind clear would determine whether she could successfully push Dumbledore into acting or not. She was grateful for the owl they'd sent in advance requesting a meeting in Hogsmeade instead of up at the school.

She didn't think her control over her thoughts or emotions would extend to seeing Hogwarts again. Where Godric's Hollow had panicked her due to the unpleasant memories she had of her previous visit to the village, Hogsmeade presented a different challenge since it flooded her mind with happy recollections, reminding her of what she'd lost. She could only imagine how much harder it would be if she had to go to Hogwarts, the home of her childhood and a place she'd last seen in shambles.

She meandered down the street and paused outside the Three Broomsticks to straighten her cloak and dress. Tom had laid out a navy cotton dress with a high waistline, full skirt that fell just past her knees, capped sleeves and a plunging neckline that morning for the meeting. Despite the neckline, the dress was very modest and, paired with the ostentatious deep red cloak with a hood Tom had insisted she also wear to hide her face, she looked like a young pureblood witch seeking to hide her identity – an event that wasn't uncommon in the current high-tension climate in England as Grindelwald continued to terrorize mainland Europe and grew with power daily.

Other than the cloak, nothing hid her identity. Her facial features and wild hair remained the same. Tom had deemed the wide hood obscure enough that no one would recognize her unless she removed it and the only person she was to remove the hood for was Dumbledore himself. Tom wanted Dumbledore to know he'd orchestrated the entire scheme when everything finally unfolded, a bit of bitterness and arrogance driving Tom's childish desire to rub Dumbledore's face in his own downfall. Hermione wasn't so sure it was such a good idea to taunt Dumbledore, but Tom was adamant. She'd let the issue drop, knowing that she'd never undertsnad why men always felt the need to gloat over the battles they won.

She took a deep breath and shouldered her way into the busy pub. An semi-recognizable man glanced up from the bar as Hermione walked in. He had dark hair and light brown eyes. Hermione could recognize some of Madam Rosmerta's features from her time and guessed he was either her father or grandfather. "Can I get you anything, dear?" he asked when she approached the bar.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that it was slightly before the time they'd arranged to meet Dumbledore and shrugged. She could have a drink to settle the nerves roiling in her stomach while she waited. "A shot of Firewhiskey, please?" she murmured.

The barkeep shot her a curious look but nodded. He poured her a shot and slid it to her. "Two sickles." Hermione shrugged and dug the requested amount from a pocket in her cloak. The barkeep smiled and pocketed the change. She sat at a stool and nursed the whiskey slowly, aware it was too early for liquor but feeling the need to brace herself for what she was sure would be a difficult meeting. She had to convince Dumbledore that Grindelwald had sent her. She thought she had enough information about his affair with Grindelwald to fool him but he was an incredibly intelligent and intuitive wizard. He'd be skeptical of anything she told him.

The barkeep shot her a couple of curious glances as he moved off to tend to other patrons. The Three Broomsticks was a fairly popular place, even in the past, and a number of booths and tables had patrons seated at them. The majority were residents of the small village out for a late morning brunch. There were understandably no students from the school seeing as it was late July and all of them were home for the summer.

She flinched slightly every time the door opened but refused to turn and check if it was the man she was waiting for. A vaguely familiar man sitting at a table in the corner of the room caught her eye. His frame was large and bulky, with heavily defined arm muscles and an unkempt dark brown beard. He looked like a warrior from another time and was probably the scruffiest of the patrons at the pub that morning, wearing a ragged white tunic and green cut offs. She frowned when she couldn't place him as she'd met most of Tom's cabal and couldn't remember him from any encounters in the future with allies or Death Eaters. All the same, he looked familiar, as though she'd seen his picture recently.

She was distracted from the man when she finally heard Dumbledore's voice. Even fifty years earlier than she knew him, he sounded the same. The slow measured pacing of his voice as he asked the barkeep – John – for a private room to conduct some private business held the same reassuring quality it had when she was a child just starting at Hogwarts. The barkeep came and fetched a key before sending the Transfiguration professor up the stairs and into the first room.

After another moment, Hermione threw back the last of her shot and stood to shake out the skirt of her dress. There was no point in dragging this out any longer than necessary. Tom would be awaiting her anxiously. "Thanks," she murmured as she brushed past the confused bar tender and headed up the stairs. She took another deep breath as she paused at the top of the stairs and knocked on the door of the room Dumbledore was waiting for her in. "Ms. Greenberg to see Mr. Dumbledore."

A faint "Come in" reached her ears and she entered the room with a high head and straight back. "Good morning, Mr. Dumbledore," she said as she entered what appeared to be a small sitting room with a small table for tea.

"To you as well, Ms. Greenberg," Dumbledore said, rising from the armchair he'd commandeered and gesturing for her to take a seat across from him at a small tea table, "What can I help you with? Your letter suggested you were in trouble of some sort, and you thought I could help?"

His familiar blue eyes twinkled over half-moon glasses and Hermione grit her teeth as she felt like she was being x-rayed by her old headmaster. Other than the fact his beard and hair were primarily brown streaked with silver, he looked much the same as he had when she'd been in school, merely younger. The powerful sensation of safety washed over her being in his presence and she had to remind herself of everyone who had died for _the greater good_ over the years because he deemed it necessary for his plan to succeed.

 _He is no better than Grindelwald or Voldemort,_ she reminded herself. Tom and her had analyzed every decision she'd known of and its consequence at length, both agreeing that much bloodshed would have been avoided if Dumbledore had merely _shared_ information. In the end, they'd agreed, There was as much blood on his hands as there was on Voldemort's. She pushed the hood of the red cloak away from her face as she settled into the seat across from the Hogwarts professor and smoothed out the skirt of her dress carefully.

"Perhaps," she agreed, "I may have slightly misled you in my letter. A mutual acquaintance of ours wished to send you a message and did not think you would receive his letter." As she spoke, the twinkle vanished from Dumbledore's eyes and his slight smile disappeared as his lips thinned slightly.

"I see," he said, "And what message might this mutual acquaintance wish to relay to me?"

Hermione reached into the pocket of her cloak and withdrew a sealed scroll of parchment. She handed it to Dumbledore who took it with trepidation. He broke the seal and his eyes began to scan the letter rapidly. As he read, his lips grew thinner and his eyes hardened.

The letter was, of course, a very good forgery of Grindelwald's handwriting asking for a meeting in person in three days' time. No time or place was specified as none of them knew where Grindelwald currently was. A tracking spell had been placed on the parchment which would bind to Dumbledore and allow them to track his movements for the next 72 hours.

Dumbledore's cold blue eyes met hers and she could feel him gently probe her mind, looking for an opening. She had an advantage because he knew nothing about her and thus knew of no weaknesses he could exploit. He couldn't even use Grindelwald as leverage to get into her head because she had never actually met him. "Legimancy will get you nowhere, Mr. Dumbledore," she said quietly, "I would appreciate if you kept out of my head."

His eyebrows shot skyward as he realized he'd been detected and he reached under the table they were seated at to grip his wand. She imagined he had been using Legimancy on unsuspecting people for years without detection and that part of his intuitive nature was due to his skill at it. Her wand was in a holster above her wrist, ready to release at any moment.

It didn't matter anyway. They'd agreed keeping as close to the truth as possible would be for the best. Even if he continued to try reading her thoughts he'd get nowhere because what she said was true. She'd just never specify which mutual acquaintance wanted to get in touch and she knew enough occlumency at this point that she could block his attempts at finding out who exactly had sent her, forcing him to make his own assumptions.

They stared at each other for a few moments, each daring the other to attack first. Finally, Dumbledore looked back down at the note she'd passed him and frowned breaking some of the tension crackling in the air.

"He wishes to send his greetings. From what I understand, you haven't spoken in years," Hermione explained, leaning forward and analyzing his confused expression.

"No," he whispered, "We haven't." He looked up at her. "I don't understand… What does he want from me?"

Hermione laughed and any remaining friendliness vanished from Dumbledore's features. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so grim. "What do you think he wants?" she asked acidly, "Your mind, your abilities with magic… You have built up quite the reputation for brilliance. He wishes to recruit you. Bring you back in the fold as it were."

"No," Dumbledore snapped. Tension flooded the room, crackling around them uneasily. "I refuse."

"He thought you'd say that," Hermione said easily, drawing a second piece of worn parchment from her pocket. She tossed it onto the table between them, watching as Dumbledore's face went white. He picked it up with shaking fingers and, after reading the first couple of lines, he let the letter drop to the table again. "He said, if you refused, to remind you of past indiscretions… He remembers the time you spent together rather fondly…"

Dumbledore swallowed hard. Hermione reacted on battle-honed instincts as he drew his wand in the next instant, snapping " _Incendio_ " to destroy the parchment on the table, and then aiming at her. She flung herself from her seat and sank into a fighting stance, wand also drawn.

"That was just a copy. Besides, we have more of those," she reminded him, "An entire summer's worth of correspondence if I recall correctly."

Dumbledore seemed to snap as he snarled wordlessly at her. "No."

"A pity that," Hermione taunted, "I suppose we'll have no choice but to expose your past associations then. A shame. You've built yourself such a comfortable life here."

"I should call the Aurors in to arrest you for blackmail," Dumbledore hissed.

Hermione laughed again. "What is that saying… Oh yes… Don't shoot the messenger," she murmured, "Besides, I am expendable or he wouldn't have sent me." True only in that Grindelwald knew nothing about her. She clung to that, ignoring the pit in her stomach that reminded her she was very precious to the person who'd sent her to complete this task. She continued icily, "Eliminating me doesn't diminish the hit your reputation will take once the letters in our acquaintance's possession are delivered to the press. If anything happens to me, he'll assume you've refused his offer and make sure your summer of youthful indiscretion is plastered all over the tabloids. You'll be ruined."

Dumbledore's wand wavered slightly as he realized he would gain nothing by hurting her. She chuckled again as it lowered unsteadily and lowered her own cautiously. She couldn't really believe it had been so simple so far. Then again, Dumbledore was pushed to confront Grindelwald for whatever reason in her timeline as well. Perhaps not because he'd been approached by a representative of Grindelwald's. His actions in her time probably had more to do with his feeling partly responsible for the blood spilt, but nonetheless, he'd gone after Grindelwald eventually. They weren't really changing anything that had happened, just forcing his hand. "What are the conditions?" he asked heavily.

"You must make contact with him in three days' time," she said, "You will go to him, alone, without contacting any authorities, or informing anyone where you are going."

"Where?"

This was the tricky part. They couldn't set a meeting place because they were trying to set him up so they could find Grindelwald themselves. Abraxas had suggested they try to pass it off as a test and Tom had agreed. She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, "You're a smart man. Figure it out. He expects you in three days. You make it to the meeting and negotiate a deal and all of this—" She waved a hand at the ashes on the table where they'd initially sat. "—goes away. We'll be seeing you soon." She brushed past him deliberately and waggled her fingers in farewell at him as she exited the room and pulled her hood back up to shade her face from curious patrons.

She sagged once she'd made it far enough out of the village that she didn't think she'd be seen by prying eyes. She collapsed against a nearby tree and trembled as everything that had just happened with Dumbledore replayed in her mind. She'd done it. She'd pulled off the meeting without getting hurt or killed. There had been a couple moments when she'd wondered if he would try to duel her, but he hadn't and she was free.

She grinned and spun to apparate to where she'd agreed to meet Tom in Knockturn Alley.

HG*TR

Tom fidgeted at the bar of the Hag's Hood anxiously awaiting Hermione's arrival. Dolohov was seated at a table in the corner of the small, dark room where he could keep an eye on all the activity in the shady establishment. Orion was lounging against the wall outside the bar and he'd left Abraxas back at the Manor with Thoros in case Hermione went back there for whatever reason. Abraxas was too recognizable anyway. Orion had been allowed to come as he wasn't a known associate of Tom's and they'd charmed his eyes to be a run of the mill brown so he'd be less recognizable. Tom and Dolohov frequented the bar regularly as they often stopped for a pint after work in the evenings before heading to the Manor for dinner.

He felt himself relax as the door swung open and Hermione stepped in. She sidled up to the bar beside him but didn't acknowledge him. They didn't want to take any chances that she'd been followed or that Dumbledore had placed a tracking spell on her as they had with him. As she flagged down the girl tending the bar for a butterbeer, Tom began mumbling detection spells under his breath. He felt his shoulders slump with relief as his scans came up with no new enchantments on Hermione and jostled into her as he stood from the stool he'd stood on.

"Clear," he murmured under his breath as his mouth passed near her ear. She nodded imperceptively and scanned the bar carefully as he pretended to stumble over to Dolohov's table.

HG*TR

Relief flooded her as she made her way to stand beside Tom at the bar. She'd made it. All that was left now was to wait for Tom to clear her for any tracking spells Dumbledore might have placed on her as she left the Three Broomsticks. She doubted that he had – or that she'd somehow been followed from the Three Broomsticks – as he couldn't have known the nature of their meeting before arriving, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

She drank her butterbeer relatively quickly when it arrived, especially after Tom gave her the all clear. She didn't want to be out in the open any longer than necessary. She paid for her drink and stood up from the bar catching Tom's eye from where he'd moved after she'd arrived. He nodded slightly and she made her way out into the dingy alley, nodding at Orion from where he lounged across the street.

She quickly made her way into a side alley off the main one and apparated. As she twisted in the air, she caught sight of the same man who'd caught her eye in the Three Broomsticks that morning. A hooded crow alighted on his shoulder in the split second she saw him, chilling her blood, and the man grinned and winked at her as she disappeared, sending another spike of cold down her spine. She reappeared in the Manor's library gasping because she'd finally placed where she'd seen him before.

 **A/N: Hi everyone! When I started writing this, I never expected the response this has gotten thus far. It amazes me every day. Currently, this fic is sitting at about 42,000 (!) views and just under 200 (!) reviews for 23 chapters. I doubt I would have gotten this far without your support and encouragement and so I thank you all so very much from the depths of my heart.**

 **We're back to regularly scheduled updates now so I'll "see" y'all sometime Friday or Saturday.**

 **Sending much love,**

 **flames**

 **P.S. I could also be enticed to give a "prize" for the 200 reviews... Maybe write a drabble/scene request for everyone who reviews this chapter? (If there are too many reviews it may take me a while to fill all requests but rest assured that I will eventually.)**


	25. A Daytime Visit

**Disclaimer: Don't own. No profit. Etc. Etc.**

 **A/N: I would like to dedicate this chapter first and foremost to Sarah who has loyally reviewed every week and was, in fact, the 200** **th** **review I received. I would also like to dedicate this to everyone else who has reviewed in recent weeks, especially Beetle126, GoldDust701 and PinkSlytherin. There are countless others but too many to name. Regardless, I look forward to each and every single one of your reviews every week and I would never have made it this far without your support. Thank you.**

 **(If I'd known a cliff hanger would generate such a response I would have done one sooner… :P I'm sorry but I'm going to keep you guessing as to who the mystery man is for a couple more chapters…)**

 _To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision._

\- _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,_ Maya Angelou

Hermione's shoulder's heaved as she reopened her eyes in Malfoy Manor's library. She glanced around the room wildly, taking in Abraxas and Thoros playing a game of exploding snap in a reading nook by the library entrance. As her eyes flickered past one of the ornate arched windows a pair of flying crows caught her eye. The first was a hooded crow, the second a carrion crow and her heart stuttered at the sight of them. The hooded crow alighted in the window sill as though taunting her and she narrowed her eyes at the creature, knowing full well it was Badb's animal incarnation. Since arriving in the past she'd never seen a hooded crow or any of the other triad's animal aspects – Macha's red wolf or Nemain's carrion crow – except as a reminder of her task.

Connla mentioned them in his journal as well, noting that he saw the animal aspects periodically through his day as though they were checking up on him. Which made the appearance of a hooded crow in Knockturn Alley a highly suspicious coincidence, particularly when she'd seen the man it'd landed on earlier that day as well. Her eyes flickered shut and she could still see him winking at her as though the image had been branded onto her retinas.

She didn't think it was possible to be who she thought it was. It couldn't be. She could see his face as clearly as it had been drawn on the scrap of paper wedged in the journal though. An exact likeness. It just… wasn't possible. She swallowed uncomfortably and opened her eyes to see that both crows had landed in the window now and were watching her. A red wolf had slunk out of the forest and was staring at her from the garden as well.

Suddenly an uncontrollable rage washed over her. Did they not think she was capable of completing the task they'd set her? Did she not endure enough scrutiny every day between Tom and the curiously cautious eyes of his friends? It was bad enough they visited her dreams almost nightly, but now they had to intrude on her waking hours as well? She just wanted them all to leave her alone.

"Go away!" she shrieked, waving her hands at the birds and startling Abraxas and Thoros from their game. The crows merely blinked at her impassively and she moved toward the window they perched outside of angrily. "Leave me alone!"

"Hermione?" Abraxas's worried voice startled her and she half turned to see him and Thoros staring at her with concern, "What's wrong? Where's Tom?"

"Not now, Abraxas," she snapped. She stalked to the window and glared at the trio of animals that had gathered there. "I don't know what the three of you think you're doing," she hissed, "But you need to leave now. I made a vow and I will keep it. So, you can stop hovering over me and call off your giant hulking _thrall_."

"Hermione, what is it? Why are you so upset? Did something go wrong?" Abraxas continued to pester her as he hurried away from the game he'd been playing to pass the time while she'd been gone.

"I said, _not now_ ," she snarled, "I need to deal with these _imbeciles_ first." She ignored Thoros' surprised exclamation behind her as he caught sight of the trio of animals gathered by the window and shrugged Abraxas' hand off her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the Morrigan irritably. "Well? Is there a reason you sent a lackey after me? You will sorely regret it if I see him again. Especially if he is who I think he is."

 _Who he is does not matter unless you fail to deliver on your promises._ Hermione cringed as Macha's voice scissored through her mind, a splitting headache erupting along the path her words had taken.

"I still have _decades_ ," Hermione reminded them sharply. The goddesses' incarnations looked unimpressed, possibly even amused by her response. The hooded crow preened its chest feather nonchalantly, eyes glinting, as the carrion crow eyed her beadily. The wolf's head tilted to the side, tongue lolling. Hermione felt her fury smolder as she realized they were laughing at her.

 _History is built on many tiny actions,_ Macha scolded her, _Today, was merely a single step amongst many._ Hermione glowered at the red wolf. She _knew_ that. They were only halfway through this endeavor to defeat Grindelwald and drag Dumbledore's name through the mud. And she knew that there would still be more to do after this, but it was a _significant_ alteration to the timeline and many more would ripple out from this one without her needing to influence _anything_.

 _The battle may be won,_ Badb murmured, _but there is still the war._ Hermione glared at the warrior goddess for her reference to Pyrrhic victory. They'd given her an almost impossible task and she only had a vague idea of what needed to change for the future to be different and almost no idea of what the changes she wrought would bring. She was well aware that succeeding here did not mean she would successfully complete her task. This was merely one battle to be won within the war, but so far it had gone well with no lost ground. The real challenge would be facing Grindelwald and Dumbledore in a couple days _if_ Dumbledore chose to act.

Since the three all seemed to desire to give her their advice, she turned to the third aspect with a scowl. "Nemain?" Hermione snapped, "Your two cents?"

The carrion crow cawed raucously, startling Abraxas, and causing Thoros to laugh nervously behind her. The loud noise seemed to break the spell she and the animals had been under, and she shook herself as the two crows took flight and the wolf slipped away back into the forest.

She turned to stare at Abraxas with wide eyes. When it appeared neither of them were going to break the silence, Thoros cleared his throat. "What exactly just happened there?" he asked.

" _They_ were trying to be helpful," Hermione growled. She caught Abraxas' stricken expression and scowled again. "What? It's not like he doesn't _know_ already. If you could work it out on your own, then he certainly has. Honestly, Abraxas, I am _surrounded_ by observant and intelligent men. I'd be surprised if the two of you were the only ones."

"Not the point, Hermione," Abraxas said softly, "Tom hasn—"

"Oh, Tom," she dismissed his concern with a small wave of her hand, "I can handle Tom."

A chuckle emanated from the library's entrance and all three turned to see Tom standing in the doorway, flanked by Dolohov and Orion. "That you can," he said and Hermione gulped, nowhere near as blasé about her ability to handle the young Dark Lord with him present in the room. "I'd prefer if you didn't go about spilling our secrets though, love."

The endearment never failed to put her on edge and she cringed as he strode into the room and crossed over the space to stand near her. She shrugged in response and his hand darted out to grip her upper arm in warning. Her eyes flashed irately, drawing another chuckle from him. "Did the meeting not go well?" he asked, searching her face carefully, "Why are you so annoyed?"

" _They_ ," she said emphatically, "decided to pay a visit."

Tom stilled and looked at her sharply. "Later," he said tersely, glancing at Orion, Dolohov, and Thoros, even though the only one who looked even remotely interested in her answer was Orion, who probably had no clue the secrets she kept or what her cryptic answer meant. "Dumbledore?"

She sighed and relaxed slightly as he drew her closer to him. "That went better than expected actually," she said, "He barely questioned me. He balked after I gave him the forged letter but seemed convinced by the copy of the note in his own hand. Even if he didn't believe Grindelwald had sent me directly, he knew we meant business."

"Will he act?" Orion asked eagerly, and Hermione turned her head to smile at his enthusiasm.

"I think so," she said, "We'll have to see though. Speaking of which, we should check on the tracking charm and discuss strategy for when Dumbledore does move. If he does."

Tom nodded, releasing her and led the way the to the giant desk they'd spread maps over that morning.

HG*TR

She fell into an anxious silence as Tom absorbed her report. He'd dragged her back to their rooms after checking the maps to make sure Dumbledore was still in Britain and leaving instructions to the others to find him if Dumbledore started moving. The door had barely shut behind them before he'd demanded to know the exact details of what had unfolded from the time she'd left the Manor that morning and returning. He'd been grilling her for over an hour, and by now all she really wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep, but there was so much left to do that it made her feel sick to her stomach.

"You're certain?" he asked, fingers steepled as he mulled it all over in his mind. In that moment, he looked so much like the supervillain bent on taking over the world from a muggle movie that she could have laughed if she hadn't felt so drained from first confronting Dumbledore and then dealing with the Morrigan. She could see the cogs whirring as he tried to figure out how the man's presence at the Three Broomsticks and again in Knockturn Alley factored into the Morrigan's plans. Neither of them felt comfortable letting the war goddesses' whims guide their plans, although their hints had shaped their strategies significantly thus far.

"Y-No," she stammered, "I'm not. It's impossible, but…" She trailed off as she walked over to her desk. Tom followed her, a hand clasping her shoulder as he watched her shuffle through the piles of books and notes on the Morrigan scattered across the desk.

"We thought the existence of a goddess was impossible too," he finished for her. She appeared not to hear him as she tore her organized piles of paper apart looking for something. He took advantage of her distraction by snaking an arm around her and pulling her back against his chest. Her breath whuffed out in surprise at the motion, but otherwise she didn't react. Tom smiled at the indication that a comfortable equilibrium was returning to their relationship.

"Where is it?" she hissed under her breath, "I left it right here!"

"Where's what?" Tom murmured, his breath fizzing in her ear and warming the side of her neck, "Hermione, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she said exasperatedly, "It shouldn't be possible. If he's—" Tom pressed a finger to her lips, cutting her off.

"You're doing it again," he sighed, "You don't have to be sure of everything before you tell me, you know."

She snorted, pausing in her search and turning in his arms to regard him skeptically. "Don't I?" she whispered.

His eyes glittered with amusement, relaxing her slightly, and he shrugged. "It certainly helps," he replied, with a slight grin, "I like it when you have everything worked out in your head when you come to me… but that doesn't mean you have to figure it all out yourself either. Besides, I am capable of planning my own coup without your help."

She snorted in derision, finding a bit of humor in the idea that the version of him that had planned the rebellion she'd lived through had been anything more that a blood-soaked tragedy. "Right," she murmured, "Because that worked so well for you in my timeline."

Tom grinned. "Yes," he said, "It got me you."

She seemed to sag against him as she twisted further in his embrace to look up into his blue eyes. He regarded her seriously, no malice or deceit in his eyes. She looked exhausted, he thought as he examined her, as though she hadn't slept well in weeks. She probably hadn't. He heard her crying out in her sleep most nights but refrained from going to her because he knew she'd see it as a violation of her privacy. He'd been careful of respecting the boundaries she'd set after his error in judgement and subsequent loss of control in the hope that she'd start to relax them and let him past her walls again. The dark bags branded under her eyes confirmed his suspicions, pushing him to press forward.

"I mean it," he whispered, leaning closer to her so that his lips hovered just above the skin of her neck. His breath moistened her skin slightly as he spoke and she exhaled shakily. "You'll run yourself ragged if you keep it up, and I don't particularly like the idea of you not taking proper care of yourself. I need your mind at its best."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement for an instant, and he felt a surge of hope that he could still mend their relationship. "And if I don't?" she asked playfully, eliciting a grin from him.

He shrugged. "We'll have to think of an appropriate punishment," he replied, "I'm sure between both our brilliant minds we'll think of something."

She smiled and then sighed as she rubbed her temples wearily. "Tired?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "Whatever method they used to speak to me left me with a massive headache," she murmured, "I'll be ok."

He laughed and rubbed her arms lightly as he released her. "Bed," he ordered her sternly, "Even without that visit from the Morrigan, today would have been trying. We can finish planning in the morning."

"What if—" she started to protest before her covered her mouth with a hand.

"He won't," he said, "I don't think he'll wait the full three days but he's not going to move until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. He needs time to plan. There will be time in the morning."

She sighed but nodded slightly, acquiescing with his command. "Ok," she whispered, leaning against him for a moment. He felt the urge to wrap and arm around her again but resisted, not wanting to set himself back by pushing her too hard. She turned back to her desk and snatched up a piece of parchment that had a series of diagrams and equations written out on it.

"What's this?" he asked, eyeing it curiously.

She shrugged. "Just something I've been working on, on the side," she said, "In my version of the future you branded your… followers… so they could find you when you summoned them, and so they could summon you." He took the parchment from her carefully and scanned it hungrily.

"This isn't…" he started to say and she shook her head.

"No," she agreed, "It isn't. I always thought that was a bit Medieval. Branding them like cattle… I adapted the spell slightly in my fifth year when we formed Dumbledore's Army – a defence group – so we could arrange meetings secretly without being detected. A galleon is a bit too easy to misplace though, and I didn't think you would like the idea of something so plebeian marking membership to your cabal."

Tom stared at her in awe and she babbled on, worried that he didn't like the design, or the thoughts she'd slowly been piecing together ever since she'd realized that they would be going after Grindelwald and needed a way to summon or contact the other members of Tom's group for back up once they tracked him down. "Then Orion's engagement ring gave me the idea of a signet ring that no one except you could remove… Easier to hide or disguise than an ugly black brand too, and…"

She stammered to a halt as Tom surged forward and pressed his lips to hers softly. She gasped slightly, and clung to him as he moved his lips against hers uncertainly at first and then with growing confidence when she didn't push him away. Warmth spilled through her and she moaned as his hands travelled up her back to pull her closer.

He pulled back abruptly, stumbled a few steps away from her and before she could process that he was gone, stammered out an apology and fled their rooms. She felt tears burn her eyes as she watched him go, confused by his sudden departure and hurt by the rejection his absence left behind. She crumbled slightly, wondering if she should go after him, and decided instead to follow his orders and go to bed. She didn't think she could handle another wild emotional shift in her exhaustion.

However, when she tried to fall asleep she found that, as was usual since she'd demanded her own room, she couldn't, and after tossing and turning for over an hour she returned to their common room and stood outside Tom's closed door uncertainly. After she'd stared at it for a few long moments, she sighed and curled up on the couch where she drifted off into a fitful slumber.

HG*TR

Abraxas stopped dead in the hallway at the sight of Tom crouched against the wall, tearing his fine black locks out by their roots. "What's wrong?" he asked, panic tinging his voice and causing Tom to look up at him in surprise, "What happened this time?"

Tom just shook his head and seemed to sink lower to the ground. Abraxas exhaled with huff and sank down beside him. It was always _something_ between those two. "What happened?" he pressed gently, "Come on Tom. It can't be that bad. Just tell me and I might be able to help."

Tom shook his head again. "I… can't screw this up again," he said hesitantly after a few moments of expectant silence stretching between the two of them.

"Did she say something?"

Tom shoved a piece of crumpled parchment at him in response and Abraxas smoothed it out with trepidation. He scanned the writing on it hesitantly at first and then with greater speed until he looked at Tom with round eyes. "Tom… this is brilliant," he said, "She figured this out for you?" At Tom's nod, he asked, "Did you ask her to?" Tom shook his head.

"No… I'd been toying with the idea of a tattoo of some sort… Essentially the same thing but branded in the skin. I didn't think anyone would object but she's refined it into something more sophisticated and elegant than I'd imagined was possible." He pointed to a line in one of the scribbled equations. "That would change the inscription on the band so we could send messages. We wouldn't even need wands to do it because she's made it so each one is tied into our magic. It's…"

"Incredible," Abraxas breathed, "She did this for you?" Tom nodded miserably and Abraxas sighed. "So, what's wrong?" he asked, "Why are you out here moping?"

"I… kissed her," Tom mumbled, "No one's ever done something like that for me… And I just reacted on instinct because I couldn't think what I could say that would express how much I _loved_ what she'd done and she was babbling because she was nervous and… so I kissed her."

Abraxas stiffened. "And?" he asked quietly, remembering what had happened the last time they'd kissed.

"She kissed me back," Tom whispered, "And it was incredible and then I realized what I'd done and remembered what happened last time and I bolted."

Abraxas sat beside Tom in silence for several minutes. "I think," he said eventually, "You need to talk to her. If she didn't give any indication she didn't want you to kiss her, and she didn't try to push you away… Tom… I think you're overthinking this and everything is fine. But you should definitely talk to her just to make sure."

Tom looked at him, new hope burning in his eyes. "You think so?" he asked hesitantly. Abraxas nodded and some of Tom's tension drained away with the reassurance. He drew in a shaky breath before he climbed to his feet. "Ok," he said as though trying to convince himself everything was alright, "I'll talk to her."

Abraxas nodded and climbed to his feet as well. "Good," he said.

Tom took the parchment back from him and turned to go back to is rooms but stalled before he got more than a couple steps. He turned back to Abraxas with a pained expression. "I need to get these rings ready now," he said helplessly, "I'd like them to be ready for tomorrow because they'll make confronting Grindelwald and Dumbledore that much easier."

Abraxas sighed and nodded in agreement. "Just… Don't leave it too long," he said, and Tom nodded.

HG*TR

Tom re-entered his rooms a few hours later completely drained. He and Abraxas had made enough gold signet rings for his entire inner circle and a number of silver ones for his second tier of followers, as well as a special ring for Hermione. The rings' signet bore a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth like a tongue and Tom felt exhausted but pleased with the results of his and Abraxas' labour. They'd tied the enchantments into the Gaunt Ring and then tested the enchantments with Abraxas' ring for an hour before they'd both conceded to going to bed.

He yawned as he made his way across the sitting room to his bedroom and paused as he spotted Hermione curled up on the couch uncomfortably. He felt a tendril of guilt settle over him as he wondered if she'd fallen asleep waiting for him to come back. He winced at the awkward angle her neck rested, knowing she wouldn't get enough sleep in that position. With a heavy sigh, he ventured into her room awkwardly and pulled back the blankets on her bed so he could settle her under the covers more easily when he moved her. As he lifted her into his arms, she stirred drowsily.

"Tom?" she mumbled, reaching up to touch his face gently as he moved her from the couch to her bed. He sighed and kissed her forehead as he tucked her under the covers.

"Sorry," he murmured, "I didn't mean to wake you." She mumbled incoherently and burrowed sleepily further into the blankets as he started to leave her room. Her hand reached out and snagged his wrist before he could move out of reach from the bed though and he turned back with a furrowed brow.

"Stay," she slurred, still mostly asleep, "Sleep better with you…" He felt a smile spread across his face and bent to kiss her forehead again.

"Ok, love," he whispered into her wild curls, "Just let me get changed into pyjamas and I'll be right back." She muttered something incoherent as he went to change and he slipped under the covers with her moments later. She nestled into his side immediately and he smiled again as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Good night, Hermione," he whispered as his eyes slid shut, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks.

"Night," she mumbled as he drifted off to sleep almost instantly.

 **A/N: Goodnight lovelies! I'm off to bed now. I know I'm early but I was just so excited about this chapter I couldn't wait. Besides… I didn't think you'd mind ;-)**

 **Sending virtual hugs,**

 **flames**


	26. Zigzags

**Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.**

 **A/N: Hello all… *waves sheepishly* I'm back… I'm really sorry about the long wait on this chapter. I had an assignment due last Friday (which was like pulling fingernails and teeth to write) and this Friday I had a ½ hour presentation I had to give. Anyway… I won't bore you guys with excuses except to say that Real Life caught up with me.**

 **I wish this chapter was longer but given how long I've made you wait already I decided to post what I have and just put the rest of what I'd planned for this chapter into the next one. Writing has not come easily the last couple weeks. To those of you who reviewed, thank you kindly, you are the only reason there is even an update this week.**

 _He opened his arms and she moved into the space they made in the world, and laying her head against his chest she permitted herself the almost unimaginable luxury of grief._

\- _Lions of Al Rassan_ , Guy Gavriel Kay

Hermione woke feeling better-rested than she had in weeks. She sighed contently and turned over, freezing as she felt an unfamiliar weight hugging her waist. Her eyes flew open and she stared wide-eyed at the wall Tom's torso formed, blocking her field of view. She groaned quietly as the vague memory of him carrying her back to bed and her begging him to stay slowly percolated into her conscious mind.

In the fog induced by her sleep deprivation, her determination to sleep alone had obviously faltered and in a moment of weakness and vulnerability she'd asked him to stay. And she'd slept better than she had in weeks. Perfect. The sting from his escape the night before, just after he'd kissed her, hadn't abated, and waking up nestled beside him was forcing her to face the reality that she'd grown to care a great deal about the young Dark Lord. She blinked back tears as she contemplated that he'd at least partially succeeded in his aims to seduce her. Except he seemed to have no interest in her any longer, considering how he'd fled the night before.

She groaned again and let her head fall back to her pillow, only to find Tom's chest had replaced it at some point in the night and the weight of her head hitting his chest woke him with a grunt.

"Hermione?" he mumbled, the arm draped over her waist tightening and pulling her closer to him.

She sighed, a hand lifting to brush a stray tear away. "Tom," she said. She shoved at his arm to dislodge it unsuccessfully as instead of loosening, his grip seemed to tighten instead.

"No," he mumbled, "Sleep." She grimaced and tried to push him away again, only to feel the binding between them tighten in response this time.

Her fingernails dug into his wrist in response and he flinched slightly. "Tom," she hissed, "Please, I'm not in the mood for…" She trailed off uncertainly and swallowed, painfully aware of how close she'd been to admitting how she felt about him and how hurt she'd been by his abrupt departure the night before. Something in her tone must have tipped him off to her distress though because the pressure on her leash released immediately and he twisted so he lay on his side blinking at her blearily.

"Hermione?" he repeated, "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she whispered, "Nothing."

He removed his arm from her waist and brought his hand up to rub his forehead wearily. "It must be something," he said as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. The curl sprung back to it's original position almost immediately and his mouth quirked in a slight smile before it sobered. "Is this about last night?" he asked carefully, his eyes searching hers.

She shook her head again and his lips thinned slightly as he lifted himself up onto an elbow to look down on her. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. She had no desire to have this conversation right now. As she stood up, she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist in a vice-like grip. "Hermione," he stated, a warning note in his voice.

She closed her eyes as she sank back down onto the mattress. So, this was happening. The fingers of her free hand slowly curled into claws in the comforter, gripping it tightly. "Why did you leave?" she asked and her voice sounded small and tinny to her ears.

She felt weak suddenly, sitting there with her back to him. She struggled to control her emotions, even though she knew it didn't matter because he could read her like an open book. She felt the mattress shift beneath her as he slowly rearranged himself to sit beside her.

"Because I was afraid I'd overstepped," he said softly. Surprised she turned her head to meet his intense gaze. His blue eyes bore into her brown ones. "Hermione," he whispered, lifting a hand and placing it on her shoulder, "I'm trying here. I— You caught me by surprise last night with the schematics for those rings… and no one's ever done something like that for me before… and I didn't know what to say to tell you how much I liked the designs and the thought and… I just reacted and I was afraid I'd overstepped again and have to start over a third time."

She drew in a sharp breath as the insecurities that had gnawed on her the night before began to retreat. "You didn't," she replied and felt her heart constrict as he smiled at her. _How much of it is an act?_ whispered the part of her that still balked at this entire situation. She'd buried the voice deep inside her weeks ago, when she'd resolved to comply with the Morrigan's demands and change history but her lingering insecurity had obviously shaken it loose.

The return of the tiny voice jarred her and she felt her jaw clench slightly as she resolved to ignore it, only to have Harry's voice pipe up from whatever nook it had hidden itself in. _Remember, he never says anything without a motive. He'd tell you he loved you if it meant he got what he wanted._ She shoved both voices to the back of her consciousness as she returned Tom's smile with a small one of her own. She was doing all of this for them. To ensure their childhood was better than hers. She supressed the niggling thought that despite her best intentions, she was in over her head. "You don't."

Tom's smile broadened and he reached over to pull her closer to him. As he leaned over so his lips just barely brushed hers, he murmured, "So, this is ok?"

She inclined her head slightly in agreement and gasped as his lips enveloped hers. Warmth flooded her core and she moaned again as he drew his tongue along her lips seeking silent permission to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted slightly in response, and his tongue swept past her lips to plunder her mouth. His hands slid to her waist and he slowly guided her so she straddled his lap. She let the sensations pour over her, losing herself in them for a moment.

She was panting when he pulled back with a smirk to observe her flushed cheeks and heaving chest with satisfaction. She wondered what he saw in her for a split second before he breathed, "Mine," and captured her in a kiss again. She shivered at the pronouncement, but wasn't sure if it was from fear or desire anymore.

HG*TR

Hermione repressed a flinch as Tom slid the final ring onto Antonin's pinky finger with a flourish. A blinding white light flashed through the sitting room and everyone gathered there seemed to breathe out collectively as they felt the binding magic joining them together settle over them. Tom smiled smugly over at her and she smiled back tightly.

She wondered if any of them realized that membership to Tom's cabal – whether it was named the Knights of Walpurgis or the Death Eaters – was a lifelong commitment. There would be no backing out for any of them anymore with the exception of death. When she'd designed the rings, she'd known nothing less than irreversible bondage would satisfy Tom and so the charms and enchantments she'd woven into the lattice-like spell work had been complex and completely binding. The commitment upon receiving one was irrevocable.

She only hoped she could change the future enough that the fate of the wearers wasn't a fearful one. She could still remember the terror etched into Draco's face the year he'd plotted and sulked around Hogwarts trying to kill Dumbledore. Whatever respect Voldemort's followers had once felt for their leader eroded away into fear and distrust. She wanted better than that for the young men she grew closer to every day. Especially Abraxas who had become almost like a brother to her.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as Tom turned to her again. "Love," he murmured, a smile pulling at his lips. She smiled back and frowned as he rounded the coffee table to kneel by the chair she'd sat in to watch the proceedings.

"Hermione," he said softly, "You have been invaluable to me since you entered my life four months ago. Your presence has turned my life upside-down and sent it into uncharted territory. I don't know where I'd be without you by my side." Her heart stuttered in her chest and she stiffened as he clasped one of her hands because they both knew where he'd be. Where she was supposed to be.

Tom was binding them all into his intricate web and she was the last piece that needed to be fixed in place. Never mind he'd already bound her to him using a fidelity spell. Never mind she was completely dependent on his goodwill. Never mind that he was slowly seducing her. Successfully. She was perfectly aware she was in over her head. She knew that against all odds he'd won himself a place in her affections, if not her heart, because she cared for him despite the bastard he could be at times. Despite what she knew of him – his past and future. Because that was why she'd devised this plan. Why she'd designed those rings.

"Please don't," she whispered, aware of all the curious eyes trained on them. "Tom…" She trailed off when she saw the set to his jaw and braced herself for what was coming. He never did know when to stop pushing.

Tom's smile was ice as he pulled out a small jewellery box. "Hermione," he said, "I know we've had an informal agreement for several months now, but I would like to make it official." She felt like a cornered animal. She couldn't say no without offending him or embarrassing him in front of his cabal. She didn't want to say yes because it felt too soon. They'd only just made up again. They'd only just initiated a physical component to their relationship and, although she knew he'd never let her go now that she'd finally relented, she also knew she was still scared of the commitment that being with Tom would entail. He didn't let go of people once he managed to hook his claws into them.

Her eyes slid closed as he cleared his throat, waiting for the question she knew was coming. "Tom," she whispered again, as she felt a tear leak from the corner of her eye. She knew the moment he realized she was on edge because he dropped her hand and drew back from her.

"Everyone out," he snapped, "Abraxas, wait outside please. Orion, take those maps back to the library and lay them out there. I want someone watching them at all times." She heard soft footsteps as they all filed out of the room and the rustle of papers as Orion gathered up the maps and took his leave as well. Someone – probably Abraxas – squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as he passed her. When the door closed softly Tom returned to her side and shifted her so he could slide behind her in the chair. Her back stiffened as his hands circled her waist and he chuckled slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head slightly.

He sighed and she felt his hands drop away as she opened her eyes to stare blankly at the now empty room. "I moved too quickly again."

"How much of this is an act?" she asked impulsively and felt him stiffen at the question.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

She turned to regard him carefully. "This," she explained impatiently, "The courting, the gestures, the affection. How much of it is genuine Tom? How much of it is an act to manipulate me?"

Tom froze. "Hermione," he said, voice eerily composed, setting off any number of warning bells in her mind.

"How much, Tom?" she asked in a steely voice ignoring the ringing bells and the tiny voice suggesting this wasn't perhaps the best idea. She could push back, she thought. She _would_ push back.

Now he looked like the cornered animal. "Not enough," he said finally, eyes surprisingly unguarded. She could see fear and uncertainty swimming in their blue depths. Honest. "Not enough of it is an act. I won't lie and say none of it is an act to manipulate you." His fingers grazed her cheek and his thumb settled lightly on her lips. "I need you Hermione and the closer I can keep you, the better but… I won't lie and say that the thought of you getting hurt doesn't bother me. Or the thought of you being with someone else. You're _mine_."

Her breathe wheezed out at the unexpectedly honest response. Her head tipped forward as she contemplated the revelation. "Ok," she whispered after a moment.

"Are you ok then?" he asked. His arms circled her waist again and she nodded shakily. "Can I continue with my proposal then?" She stiffened again and he chuckled in her ear as she closed her eyes again. She felt him lean forward. "Relax," he breathed in her ear. His fingers brushed a lock of her wild curls away from her face, "We were already engaged, remember? And I promised you a ring, didn't I?"

She laughed shakily and nodded slightly, her cheek brushing against his lips. "You did."

"And it's been months, hasn't it?" She nodded again. "Let me give you a ring, Hermione," he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered. She startled as Tom moved her so he could stand and then kneeled by her side again.

He pulled the small ring box out of his pocket and handed it to her. Her fingers shook as she took it from him and gasped as she opened it to reveal the ring within. The intertwined bodies of two small snakes formed the band and their heads bit opposite sides of a single emerald solitaire set into the ring. Small rubies glittered in the snakes' eyes and the detailing of their bodies was intricate. As she lifted the ring from the box carefully to inspect it closer, she hissed in surprise as the snakes came to life and slithered up her hand to coil around her ring finger. She lifted her finger carefully to examine the detailing more closely and noted that the scales were in fact carefully etched runes. She identified the ones for protection, safety, and communication before she looked at Tom in awe.

"Tom! It's beautiful," she gasped, "But this is too much." She twisted the ring on her finger and started to slide it off but Tom's hand covered hers.

"No," he said, "It's perfect." He hissed a phrase in parseltongue and she jolted slightly as one of the small snakes lifted its head to hiss back at him.

"What enchantments are on it?" she asked hesitantly, uncertain of whether she would be as unable to remove the ring as Orion was.

Tom laughed. "You're allowed to take it off," he said, sensing her unspoken question, "I rather thought you would prefer to have that freedom. I linked it to the rest of the rings, of course, so you can also send messages to any of us but I left off the binding enchantments. I also charmed it so it would tell me if you were in danger or injured. It will also let me find you if needed or you to find me."

She stared at it for a few seconds, straining to sense any hidden enchantments he had chosen to keep secret from her but found nothing. The glittering eyes on the snakes mesmerized her and she blinked back tears as she looked at Tom again. "I love it," she said, "Thank you."

Tom merely smiled at her as he stood. "I'm glad," he said, "Now, I believe we had some business to attend to today." He held out a hand to help her up and they slowly made their way from the room.

 **A/N: I am writing a LunaTrix (Bella Lestrange x Luna Lovegood) story with another author titled "Blood Stains and Daisy Chains." It won't be updated as often as this fic has been and it will be** _ **extremely**_ **dark but please check it out (You can find it through my profile) and review if you like dark fics. Hope to see you all next week!**

 **Love,**

 **flames**

 **Sarah – Thank you for the review checking up on me. I had an extremely rude anonymous review after I last posted demeaning me for writing a Tomione (the reviewer had obviously not even read past the summary) and pretty well all of my inspiration for this plot dried up. Your review is what jolted me out of the funk I've been in the past couple weeks and allowed me to churn this out though. So, thank you. Hope you're well.**

 **Lady Voldemort – I'm so glad you enjoyed it.**

 **My Anonymous Guest Reviewers – Thank you.**

 **Anonymous Guest Reviewer who "hates" my Hermione – I disagree but you're entitled to your own opinion. I'd defend how I wrote her to you but I'm not going to waste my breath.**


	27. Initiation

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

 **A/N: You guys! I hope you're happy… you actually made me** _ **cry**_ **this week with your reviews. They were just… so supportive and kind and loving… and I was completely overwhelmed because January was just a shite month all around and… I'm going to cry** _ **again**_ **just thinking about it because the support means the** _ **world**_ **to me. It means so much to me that you enjoy this enough to tell me what you think and remind me that while one or two of the reviews I receive are nasty, most of you are so wonderful and supportive. So, I wanted to say THANK YOU. You guys are AMAZING, and I love you all.**

 _For certain minutes at the least_

 _That crafty demon and that loud beast_

 _That plague me day and night_

 _Ran out of my sight;_

 _Though I had long perned in the gyre,_

 _Between my hatred and desire,_

 _I saw my freedom won_

 _And all laugh in the sun._

\- W.B Yeats, _Demon and Beast_

He hated the rings. It had taken him less than a minute upon Tom slipping the ring onto his pinkie finger to realize how much he loathed them. The simple sensation of the binding magic creeping up his hand and arm and the realization that no one other than Tom could remove the bloody thing sent a blistering rage through his bloodstream and he barely managed to contain it as Tom ordered them out of the room. The quiet discontent that had shadowed him since the Granger-Malfoy girl's appearance in the sitting room seemed to implode and he was struck with a brilliant idea that would not only put Tom in his place but win him the power he so coveted.

He pondered the idea for a moment and a plan slowly unfurled in his mind. With a smirk, he pulled a piece of parchment toward him and began to pen out a letter to someone he felt would be _very_ interested in Tom's plans for him.

HG*TR

Tom unrolled the scroll of parchment that an unfamiliar owl had delivered, absent-mindedly stroking its feathers and cursing when it bit his fingers and took off through the window before he could get retribution for the bleeding digit. He swore angrily again and stuck the finger in his mouth to suck the blood away. Stupid bird had refused to give him the correspondence until he'd immobilised it too. His eyes widened and flashed red as he scanned the first few lines of the neat and familiar handwriting and felt the first simmers of rage pulse through him. As he finished reading the note, he set it down with trembling hands.

 _How dare he!_ Tom raged silently, focusing on reining in his anger. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and counted down from ten slowly. When his eyes reopened, they'd returned to their normal blue but flickers of red could still be seen briefly as he continued to actively suppress his rage.

He picked the note up again and reread it, analyzing its content for ways he could turn this betrayal to his advantage. When he looked up again, it was to see Dolohov entering the mail room. "Tom," he greeted with a slight scowl, "Any mail arrive?"

"Yes actually," Tom replied, his tone hard, "An interesting piece of correspondence just arrived for you." Dolohov's face blanched and he took a rapid step backwards as though to retreat from the room.

Tom flicked his wand and the door slammed shut and sealed so no one could enter or leave without his permission. "Funny thing," Tom murmured as he advanced on the Russian, "It almost seemed to suggest you had betrayed me."

"Of course not, My Lord," Antonin said smoothly, Slytherin upbringing kicking in, "I would never even dream—"

Tom cut through his denial icily and waved the note at him. "Then explain how this helps me," he hissed, his eyes flashing red again, "Our enemy is aware we're coming after them now."

"That note could be from anyone," Dolohov protested, "To anyone."

"And yet the handwriting looks suspiciously like our dear _friend_ in Germany's," Tom countered, his voice dangerously calm as he played with his wand in one hand, "Is addressed to you, and thanks you for the advanced warning of our impending visit. So tell me, what conclusions am I expected to draw from this correspondence?"

Dolohov shrugged. "That you've lost it?" he asked. It was the wrong thing to say and he crumpled the next instant under Tom's fury. He screamed and writhed on the ground as Tom held him under the Cruciatus Curse with detached interest until his voice grew hoarse.

Dolohov panted from where he lay on the ground as Tom knelt by his head and gripped his chin, forcefully turning the Russian's head to look him in the eye. "I ask you again, Antonin," Tom murmured softly, "How was this supposed to help me?"

"It wasn't," Dolohov rasped out, eyes blazing with hatred, "You and your mudblood whore can die for all I care."

Tom tutted. "Didn't we have a discussion about the proper forms of address for a lady a couple months ago? Don't tell me you've forgotten that lesson already, Antonin. Don't tell me you're that _stupid_."

"Not stupid," Dolohov grunted as he twitched with the aftershocks of the torture curse.

Tom snorted. "Did you actually think you'd get away with that?" he asked, "The moment any harm came to me or Hermione due to your actions you'd _wish_ I was torturing you instead. Those rings do more than allow us to communicate with each other."

"I fucking know that," Antonin hissed, "You fucking put a binding on it so you are the only one able to remove it. Although I notice your _whore_ can take hers off."

"Yes, well she is bound to me in other ways," Tom murmured. He released Antonin's chin and let his head drop to the ground with a dull thud. "Those rings are layered with more enchantments than you can possibly detect. I'm surprised _this_ hasn't triggered their built-in safety precautions yet."

He stood up wiping his hands on his robes with a slight look of disdain at the wizard curled up in a ball on the floor. "This is how you're going to fix this," he said.

HG*TR

"He did what?" Abraxas gasped as Tom finished telling him what had transpired in the mail room that morning. Part of him was horrified, while another part was relieved that they couldn't go through with Tom and Hermione's plan after all.

"Exactly what I just told you, Abraxas," Tom snapped in exasperation, "I need you to keep an eye on him for me when Hermione and I follow Dumbledore under the cloak."

Abraxas sputtered as he realized Tom had decided to go forward with this asinine plan even though it had been compromised. "Tom," he protested, "You can't possibly—" He trailed off at the stubborn set to Tom's jaw. Of course, he was going to go through with it.

"We still have an advantage," Tom said, "He knows we're coming in the next 48 hours but he doesn't know exactly when." Abraxas cringed at just how slight of an advantage that was but nodded reluctantly.

"Have you at least told Hermione?" Abraxas asked, sure that if Tom talked to the witch she'd talk him down from being so foolish as to walk into a trap.

"Of course," Tom said, narrowing his eyes at Abraxas, "This was her plan after all."

Abraxas narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired wizard, not sure he believed him but also knew he couldn't really do anything about it either. "Fine," he relented, "I'll watch him."

HG*TR

"Maybe he won't take the bait…" Abraxas' voice trailed off uncertainly as he watched Hermione's lips thin. She glared at the blinking red dot on the map in front of them that indicated their target was still loitering around Hogwarts 48 hours into the 72-hour timeframe they'd given him. He hoped Dumbledore wouldn't go find Grindelwald. He hoped that goading him had been for naught and he wouldn't move because there was no guarantee their plan would succeed anymore.

"He will," she said, "He has to." Abraxas felt his heart twist at the flicker of fear he caught in her eyes. He hadn't seen it in a while – a month at least – and he'd thought perhaps it had receded completely but he was now realizing that could just be because she was getting better at covering her uncertainty and fear under a mask.

The last two days had been a whirlwind of last minute preparation before it had settled into a haze of anxious anticipation. Abraxas glanced around the library absorbing the sight of the other knights in Tom's new order lounging around in various states of relaxation. Thoros and Orion played a game of chess. Avery appeared to be taking advantage of the lull and napping, while others read or amused themselves in other ways throughout the library. He frowned as he searched the room for Antonin. When he caught sight of the Russian where he was practicing spells in the corner of the room, he glared angrily at his back.

Tom had stormed out of the room an hour earlier, causing most of them to flinch at the sound of the door slamming behind him, while Hermione had watched him go biting her lip anxiously and twisting the new engagement ring around and around on her finger. Abraxas had touched the new signet ring on his hand, wondering if Tom had put the same restrictions upon Hermione's ring as he had on the others. When he saw her twist the ring right off her finger, and let the snakes animate themselves to slither back into place, he figured not but he also knew Tom had already bound her so tightly to him that it hardly mattered anyway. The ability to remove a ring was only an illusion of her freedom and he knew she knew that too.

Personally, the rings struck him as a good idea. Innocuous, easy to recognize if you were in the know, and a quick method of communicating with each other. They were perfect, if restrictive. No one except he, Tom, and Hermione were aware of just how restrictive but there were good reasons for that. Abraxas could think of a couple members of their group that would object vehemently if they knew, and Dolohov had already grumbled – loudly – at the need for the rings.

He took a deep breath to ask Hermione how she felt about the engagement ring he and Tom had fashioned for her when she gasped and scrambled around the table to scan the other maps strewn there.

"Get Tom," she snapped as she pulled the map of Germany closer, scrutinizing it closely, "Dumbledore's moving." Abraxas swallowed hard as he leaned over the table to see that the blinking red dot had, in fact moved, and was now somewhere in Germany.

HG*TR

Tom smirked as he pulled the latest note off the delivering owl. He broke the seal and smiled as he scanned its contents. Perfect, everything was set up then and all they had to do was wait for Dumbledore to make his move.

He turned as Orion burst into the room panting. "Dumbledore's in Germany," he gasped.

"Excellent," Tom replied as he incinerated the parchment. He glanced at his newest recruit and raised his eyebrow. "You've been informed of the changes to the plan?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Orion murmured, bowing his head slightly.

"Good," Tom replied as he turned to make his way back to the library, "Once you're summoned, don't let her out of your sight. I want you or Abraxas with her at all times."

HG*TR

Hermione swore softly as Tom stopped her from tumbling over as their portkey deposited them in a deserted field somewhere in Germany. Tom chuckled and released her arm as she managed to get her feet back under her. "I guess you haven't travelled much by Portkey," he murmured in her ear.

She shook her head silently as she turned around surveying their surroundings. They'd apparently landed in a farmer's field if the golden stalks of wheat swaying around them were any indication of their location. She felt her shoulders relax slightly as she surveyed the area and noted that there didn't appear to be any nearby houses or structures, so hopefully the sudden appearance of two dozen young men and a woman had gone unnoticed. Abraxas flashed a smile at her when she caught his eye and she tried to smile back but the butterflies in her guts felt like snakes and she thought she'd throw up any second. "Not really," she replied distractedly, "How close are we?"

Tom raised a brow at Orion who fumbled with one of the maps he'd brought with him and checked it. "A couple miles," he announced, "That direction." He pointed behind Hermione and she turned to take in the sight of a jagged line of mountains that loomed ominously over the small group. While the field they stood in was bright and sunny, dark storm clouds brooded gloomily over the peaks, leaking down into the foothills. As she watched, she saw a flash of lightning dart down through the cloud cover threateningly.

"Right," she muttered as Tom stepped closer to her.

Tom squeezed her shoulder as the rest of the group seemed to cluster around them more closely. Suddenly it didn't feel like any amount of planning could have prepared them for this and Hermione's gut tightened at the thought that there was a high probability they could fail.

"It'll be fine," he murmured in her ear, "You've planned for every eventuality."

"I hope so," she breathed.

HG*TR

Tom shook out the invisibility cloak with a flourish as he surveyed his group of followers. Antonin scowled at him while Orion and Abraxas fidgeted nervously. Everyone else in his cabal clustered around Hermione and him in various states of nervousness and eagerness.

"You all know the plan," he said, fixing Antonin in particular with a pointed look. "Hermione and I will find Dumbledore and follow him to Grindelwald. I'll summon you once we find them using the rings."

Everyone nodded and Tom looked at Abraxas sharply. "You're in charge here," he said, "Find somewhere out of the way to lie low for a couple of hours."

HG*TR

The message simply read _We're here_ when it appeared in a shower of sparks. Nonetheless, he knew exactly who had sent it and grinned wickedly. "Notify the troops," he ordered the hooded acolyte standing at attention by the door, "We are about to have visitors."

HG*TR

Tom watched Dumbledore pause in his slow march as a fortress loomed out from behind a foothill. Hermione shuffled closer to him under the invisibility cloak and he shifted to accommodate her. They had found Dumbledore easily using the tracking spell once they'd separated from the others and had spent the better part of an hour following the wizened wizard as he cautiously made his way through the foothills.

"Nuremgard," Hermione breathed and Tom jerked his head in agreement. The fortress was impressive. Deep purple storm clouds churned ominously above it, hiding the peaks of the surrounding mountains and making the dark stone seem almost black. In shape, it appeared to be a mockery of Hogwarts with several tall twisted towers, perhaps to scorn the wizard who now approached it.

For his part, Dumbledore only hesitated a moment before continuing forward with his wand drawn and they followed a safe distance behind. Dumbledore stopped again as the wrought iron gate guarded by two of Grindelwald's Reapers came into view and the inscription _For the greater good_ carved above it became visible. They could see Dumbledore mouthing the words as he seemed to shudder with regret but which Tom also recognized as grief.

" _Ariana_ ," Dumbledore breathed hopelessly. Tom raised an eyebrow at Hermione, wondering who Ariana could be and Hermione mouthed _sister_ and _dead_ at him. Tom flashed back to one of their many conversations where they'd discussed Dumbledore and his weaknesses. He seemed to recall Hermione speculating that she suspected Dumbledore and Grindelwald's relationship had fallen apart due to the death of his sister.

He opened his mouth to ask for more detail but she pressed her hand over it before he could speak. He closed his mouth, realizing she was right. Any sound they made could blow their cover, so Tom watched silently as Dumbledore's shoulders slumped forward for a moment before he straightened to his full height and approached the gate with a high head. The Reapers watched him approach curiously under cloaks with hoods that shaded their faces from view, but made no move to threaten the wizard until he was within a hundred meters or so of them.

"State your name and business," one growled as they both raised their wands at Dumbledore.

"Your Master wished to see me," Dumbledore said heavily.

The two guards exchanges glances. "We weren't told of any visitors," the second one scowled, "And we're not supposed to let anyone enter unescorted."

"I am early for our rendezvous," Dumbledore acknowledged, "But I think you'll find your Master will see me anyway. If you must, tell him a friend from his youth has paid a visit. He should know who I am."

Tom could just barely discern the deepening scowls on the faces of the two guards and they leaned closer to each other to mutter to one another for a moment. Finally, they pulled apart and the first one gestured to Dumbledore. "Fine," he grumbled, "We'll escort you to him."

Dumbledore smiled genially at the pair as they waved their wands in an intricate pattern and the gates to the fortress began to slide open. Tom felt Hermione mimicking the motion of their wands beside him as she strove to memorize the wand movement so she could open the gates for the rest of their group once Dumbledore was inside. The pair slipped in after the two Reapers and Dumbledore and watched as the gates swung shut behind them.

Then, as Dumbledore, accompanied by the two guards disappeared around the corner, Tom and Hermione began to cast detection charms and the like to make sure they were completely alone and no enchantments were in place that would trigger traps or alarms. There was a number of enchantments that the pair easily neutralized but a complete lack of any life nearby. It unnerved Tom just how deserted Nuremgard appeared to.

He would have expected more Reapers to be wandering the halls and keeping watch be although it was consistent with the correspondence Dolohov had been receiving from Grindelwald. He was still on edge though because, despite the details he'd gleaned from the correspondence, he knew that in Grindelwald's position he wouldn't reveal all the details of a plan to a capricious spy. It made him wonder if there was something else happening today, or if Grindelwald just had that much faith in his Wards that he didn't feel the need to post guards.

Once they'd checked their immediate area, Hermione cast a disillusionment charm on herself and shrugged her way out from under the invisibility cloak. "I guess this is it," she whispered shakily and Tom nodded his agreement before he realized she obviously couldn't see the gesture.

"Yes," he murmured, "It is." He could barely see her outline where she stood a step or two away from him. "Your disillusionment is flawless," he added critically, "I wouldn't know you were here if I hadn't arrived with you."

She released a shaky breath and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder softly. "You'd better go catch up," she said, "I'll summon the boys, let them in, and we'll be right behind you."

"Alright," he said, still uneasy, "Be careful."

"You too," she whispered as he turned to head after Dumbledore and his escort.

HG*TR

Abraxas frowned as he watched Antonin skulk at the back of the group left behind while Hermione and Tom searched for Dumbledore and Grindelwald. They'd moved closer to the treeline and clustered loosely while they waited for Tom to summon them and Abraxas had noticed that the Russian seemed… off. Tom had tweaked their plan appropriately given Antonin's defection but Abraxas didn't agree with Tom's decision to make the Russian come along with them anyway, especially given the way he was currently lurking.

Antonin had been exceptionally reluctant to join them in this endeavour and had only conceded when Tom insisted. However, upon leaving the Manor today, he'd been unusually chipper. It made him uneasy, especially since he knew how the Russian felt about Hermione and their plan. He didn't think Antonin would do anything to jeopardize the mission but he'd proven to be exceptionally blind when it came to anything to do with Hermione so far.

His gut twisted as he watched a piece parchment in Antonin's hand vanish in a shower of sparks that he tried to hide with his body. It was the same spell Antonin had developed in fourth year that they'd used to send messages in Binn's class since the ghost was always too caught up in his lectures on goblin rebellions to notice the fireworks all over his class room. Abraxas had no idea what had been written on that parchment, but it didn't bode well for them.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Abraxas snapped, watching as the Russian blocked his spell, smirked at him, and then disappeared with a small pop. "Fuck!" he yelled, glancing around the bewildered remnants of Tom's cabal.

"What the bloody hell!" Thoros hissed, "What's wrong?"

"Dolohov's betrayed us," Abraxas growled, "He's been acting weird all day and I just saw him send a note off using that spell he developed in 4th year."

Thoros' face blanched. "You don't think…" he trailed off uncertainly at the dark look on Abraxas' face.

"I have no idea," Abraxas said, "But whoever that note was for, it wasn't to make this easier for us, almost guaranteed." Everyone blanched.

"What's wrong?" Orion pressed, the youngest of the group and ignorant of the spell Antonin ahd just used.

"Nothing good," MacNair growled.

"We need to try and get a hold of them," Abraxas said.

"Good luck with that, boys," a low gravelly voice said from the treeline. They all spun around wide-eyed to stare at the grizzled man who stepped out from the trees, an array of cloaked figures behind him, "You're going to be a bit busy to do that."

Beside him, Thoros swore. "Round them up," the man growled and the air between the two groups erupted in a volley of spells.

HG*TR

Something was terribly wrong. Hermione knew it the moment she felt Tom's presence recede and she was left alone at the front entrance of Grindelwald's prison. It wasn't just that the prison was too quiet, although that was a part of it. There was something else, some niggling uncertainty that she felt like she'd overlooked.

Her mind flickered through all of the variables she'd tried to account for, trying to pin down a single one that might be the cause of her current anxiety. She took a deep breath as nothing came to mind, struggling to push the unease into her subconscious, and turned her attention to her task of summoning Tom's cabal and letting them into the prison. It would be better once everyone was together again, she thought to herself as she focused on sending the message to Abraxas through the ring that would tell the others to apparate here.

The scales on the snakes of her ring rearranged themselves under her featherlight touch and she frowned as she pushed the message through the connections between the rings Tom had made. She felt herself relax as several pops indicated the arrival of Abraxas, Thoros, and a couple of the others.

"Hermione!" Abraxas yelled spinning around, and looking for her as he appeared.

"Shut up," she hissed, "I don't want Grindelwald's Reapers to know we're here!"

She moved closer to the sealed gate and her eyes widened in concern as she noted that only a few of the team Tom had assembled for this mission had apparated to meet her. "Abraxas, where is everyone?" she asked as dread curdled in her gut. As she moved closer to the few that had arrived she noted that many of them looked dishevelled. Almost like they'd come from a fight…

"That's just it," Abraxas snapped, "They already know we're here."

Hermione swore. "How?" she hissed, "We were so careful!"

"Dolohov," Abraxas said tersely and Hermione swore again. He looked surprised at her reaction. "Tom didn't tell you?" he asked. She shook her head with wide eyes and he swore.

"Tom intercepted a response to one of his correspondences with Grindelwald," Abraxas explained tersely, "I thought he'd told you."

"No," she said, furious that Tom had kept vital information from her. She could have adjusted the arithmancy equations to factor the new information in, or maybe not have been caught so flatfooted by the information. It wasn't even as if she was surprised that Dolohov had tried to betray Tom, she just couldn't believe Tom hadn't told her. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. She could tear Tom a new one once this was over. She didn't have time for this now.

Abraxas groaned. "I knew he lied to me when he said he'd told you!"

She huffed and shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it now," she muttered, "Here, let me open the gates so you guys can come in." She waved her wand in the pattern she'd memorized earlier and frowned when the gates remained still. She tried again and scowled at the lack of reaction. "I don't understand," she said, "I know I did the movement right…"

"Hermione," Abraxas snarled, "Behind you!" He shot a curse through the bars of the gate and had to jump aside as it rebounded. Hermione spun around to find half a dozen Reapers arrayed behind her.

"Hello sweetheart," the one in the centre said as her eyes widened comically.

 **A/N: *Rubs back of neck sheepishly* As Sherlock would say "The game is afoot."**

 **Hopefully you liked Part 1 (of ?) of the (epic) battle between Tom, Grindelwald, and Dumbledore? I meant to write it all into a single chapter but when I got to 7000 words with no end in sight I decided to post the first section rather than wait another day or two to post (so… sorry about the cliffy). On the upside, there's almost 3000 words written for Ch 28 already? So maybe two updates next week? We'll see if my muse and schedule allow for it as I'm currently spending the majority of my time in the lab and not at my desk at school. :-)**

 **On the other hand, you guys are AMAZING. I know I said it already but it bears saying again. Thank you all for the lovely reviews. Thank you for reading. Just… thank you. You all made my week… No. My month.**

 **Love,**

 **flames**

 **Sarah – Aww. Thank you for the positive words of encouragement. Getting your review every week always makes me smile and want to write more… Hope you are well!**

 **Random Words – I've actually been very lucky with reviewers but a couple weeks ago was brutal and that combined with a pretty rocky start to 2017 dried up my inspiration. Normally I ignore less pleasant reviews (or try to) because I know I have all of you lovely people following my story (and I completely do include guests!) but it felt like everything was conspiring against me and so I took a bit of a break. Thank you so much for the kind words.**

 **Anonymous Guest Reviewers – Thank you.**


	28. Twists and Turns

**Disclaimer: The usual. Unfortunately.**

 **A/N: AHHH! THANK YOU! I have absolutely NO IDEA how this has happened but this fic was nominated as a finalist for Best Dark Fic in the Haven Awards 2017. I never imagined this would garner so much attention when this started and I suspect that you, my dear readers, are partially responsible for this nomination so thank you.**

 **I would like to ask all my readers a quick favor though. If you are enjoying reading this and think it is worthy… Would you vote for Morrigan's Curse in the finals round for me?**

 **Voting runs from tomorrow (Feb 21) to Feb 28 and the link to do so is:**

 **goo. gl /forms/ afEL VBndM JgT0 fyf2**

 **(Just copy and paste the link in your browser and delete the spaces to follow it)**

 **It would mean the world to me if you did so!**

…

…

…

 **Hi all! I am** _ **so so sorry**_ **. I really wanted to post two chapters last week. I had completely planned to but things didn't exactly work out the way I wanted them to. I was in a** _ **foul**_ **mood all week (RL reasons,** _ **nothing**_ **to do with fanfiction) and didn't feel like writing and then when I finally wanted to write on Friday/Saturday I had other things (i.e. class and driving the 6 hours to my parents place…) to occupy me.**

 **Regardless, here is last week's chapter at long last. I am sorry for the wait. Hopefully you don't hold it against me…**

 _It's the simple truth that mortal men cannot understand why the gods shape events as they do._

\- _Tigana_ , Guy Gavriel Kay

Tom slipped into the study the guards had led Dumbledore to just as the door slid shut behind him. A wizard who appeared to be in his 30's or 40's – although Tom knew for certain he was at least 60 – wearing cobalt blue robes glanced up from a letter he was composing at a small desk in front of the window. He smiled at Dumbledore as he came to a halt in the centre of the bare room. Amusement flashed through his oddly coloured eyes, glinting grey and midnight blue as he flicked strands of shoulder-length dirty blonde locks out of his face. "Albus, what a surprise," his low voice said, obviously not surprised at all.

"I was told you'd be expecting me, Gellert," Dumbledore said tersely, glancing around the room with seeming disinterest, "I'm here. What do you want?"

"Ah," Grindelwald murmured, "But that's where you're wrong. I wasn't aware I should be expecting you until yesterday. But since you have deigned to visit…"

Dumbledore frowned, looking confused. "But if you didn't send Ms. Greenberg, who did?" he asked

"I did," Tom said as he pulled the cloak off in a single smooth pull. He smirked at Dumbledore's shocked expression and Grindelwald's exasperated one.

"I thought your cohort was supposed to delay you," Grindelwald muttered.

"Yes," Tom murmured flicking his fingers nonchalantly, "That was the plan, wasn't it? Unfortunately for him, he didn't exactly plan his betrayal thoroughly, and I just so happened to receive your correspondence to him instead."

"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said with raised eyebrows, "You surprise me… Why would you feel the need—"

"It was convenient," Tom said blandly, interrupting the question Dumbledore was asking him. "Discrediting you and defeating the darkest wizard of our time. A feat to be remembered, don't you think?"

The two ex-lovers exchanged glances and Grindelwald snorted. "You actually think you can defeat me, boy?" he chuckled, "You look as though you're barely out of school!"

Tom bristled at the assessment but restrained himself, knowing he needed time for everyone to get into position. "Looks are deceiving," he murmured, "I personally would never have guessed that our dear transfiguration Professor here helped you concoct a plan for world domination when you were 18."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dumbledore snapped, "The idea is—"

"Not untrue," Grindelwald said, eyeing Tom with curiosity, "You did your homework. Who did you talk to? Aberforth? Doge?"

"Bathilda Bagshot actually," Tom replied, "We received a tip that she might know something of interest about Professor Dumbledore here. It wasn't that hard really…"

"Ah," Grindelwald murmured, "And how is dear Auntie Bathilda?"

"Quite well, I'm told," Tom replied cordially, "Wishes you would write more. The usual spiel with relatives you don't see often, or so I've been told. I wouldn't know personally as I have none."

Dumbledore watched the almost pleasant exchange of niceties between Grindelwald and Tom with growing incredulity. "You must be joking!" he hissed, his pleasant tone evaporating, "Tom stop this nonsense at once."

Tom laughed, "Oh but Professor, I am only living up to the potential you always saw in me."

Dumbledore blanched. "That's not true," he snapped, "You could be so much better than this." He affected the expression of a teacher disappointed in his students and Tom sneered unable to help himself. The look hadn't worked on him in school and it certainly wouldn't here.

"You don't believe that," Tom snarled, "You've only ever had one judgement of me and it's been the same since you told me I was a wizard. You swept into my life to dazzle me with magic and instantly judged me for my upbringing, and my ability to speak parseltongue. And then later you judged me for my sorting. I never even had a chance in your eyes!"

"That is most certainly not true!" Dumbledore sputtered. Tom took deep breath to restrain his temper. He needed to stay in control of this conversation and distract the two wizards from his presence there.

"I believe it," Grindelwald murmured. He'd watched the exchange with detached interest but now stepped in as though to defuse the building tension in the room. "You always did think people were beneath you, Albus. You never did enjoy feeling like the fool in a room either. I imagine that you felt threatened by Mr. Riddle here the moment you met him, and recognized him as one of the few who could go head to head with you. And perhaps you saw a few of my qualities reflected there as well, and considering what I have done so far in my campaign I would imagine that _terrified_ you."

"What leads you to such conclusions, Gellert?" Dumbledore responded as he collected himself, "Your _campaign_ as you call it had barely started when I met Tom at age 11. Besides he was scarcely old enough to be a threat."

"So you admit you see me as a threat," Tom sneered.

"Hardly," Dumbledore responded, holding his hands out in the calming gesture Tom had grown to hate over the years, "You're merely a misguided teenaged boy."

"Just like you were a misguided teenaged boy when your sister passed away in a tragic accident?" Tom retorted, jumping on an opportunity as he saw it. He watched with satisfaction as both Grindelwald and Dumbledore whitened at his question. "Was it actually an accident?"

"How do you know about that?" Dumbledore hissed, his wand leaving his pocket for the first time that day and levelling itself at Tom.

Tom shrugged. "An educated guess," he responded, shoving his hands into his pockets to toy with his wand dispassionately.

"It was an accident," Grindelwald insisted.

"But neither of you are innocent in her passing, are you?" Tom guessed. He tensed as Grindelwald's wand made an appearance as well, but forced himself to outwardly remain relaxed.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, boy," Grindelwald hissed.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at him. "Struck a nerve, have I?" he murmured, inspecting his nails while his other hand continued to toy with the wand in his pocket, "So there _is_ guilt there."

"Shut up!" Dumbledore's voice snapped through the suddenly icy tension that seemed to crackle in the air, "Neither of us know who killed her! It could have been any of us."

Tom's eyebrow crept higher. "I didn't say anyone had killed her," he pointed out politely and Dumbledore blanched as he realized his mistakes.

"You should blame your brother," Grindelwald said abruptly. He'd lowered his wand and was now looking over the letter he'd been writing, "The _foolish_ boy. If he hadn't confronted us about our plans everything might be different now."

Tom smirked as Dumbledore's face contorted with rage. This was going _wonderfully_. He'd successfully distracted the two wizards from him and he stepped back to watch what was sure to be an entertaining argument. "Yes," Dumbledore hissed, "Because it couldn't possibly have been that I finally saw the darkness that I managed to overlook in my infatuation with you."

Grindelwald looked amused briefly and stood up from his desk. He stepped toward Dumbledore and lifted a hand to caress Dumbledore's face in a mockery of a lover's caress. He leaned in close to Dumbledore and then breathed, "I don't _believe_ you. You may have strictly adhered yourself to the _Light_ following Ariana's death, but I don't believe for a _second_ that before that summer you were as righteous as you pretend to be now. You wanted power as much as I did – do – and you still do or you wouldn't be here now."

" _You're wrong_ ," Dumbledore whispered brokenly. His eyes had closed with Grindelwald's touch and Tom could tell that as much as he wanted to deny it, he still harboured feelings for his ex-lover despite everything between them.

"Am I?" Grindelwald murmured, "Why _did_ you come then, Albus?"

"Some one has to stop you," Dumbledore snapped.

"So you don't want the fame and power that would result from defeating the darkest wizard of our time?" Grindelwald asked with amusement. When Dumbledore shook his head, Grindelwald laughed. "You surprise me, Albus. As a youth, you would have jumped at the opportunity to become the most powerful wizard in Britain. If you'd stayed with me, you would have."

Tom almost laughed as Dumbledore's face turned a shade of puce and the normally serene wizard lost his temper. "Shut up!" Dumbledore snarled, turning his wand on Grindelwald who merely looked amused to find himself at Dumbledore's wand point. "You know _nothing_ of what I would or would not do! Not then, and certainly not now!"

Grindelwald cast a dismissive glance at Dumbledore's wavering wand and snorted. Dumbledore's face contorted with rage at the brush off and he turned an even darker shade of purple. "It's your fault my sister died," he hissed.

"I seem to recall you sharing my plans," Grindelwald murmured, still amused.

Tom leaned comfortably against the wall, watching the two older wizards fall into something reminiscent of a lover's quarrel. It was fascinating to see the remnants of their relationship in their interactions. He pulled out his wand unnoticed as their quarrel became more heated and began to cast the enchantment he and Dolohov had developed in the wake of Dolohov's betrayal.

HG*TR

Hermione gaped at the half dozen or so Reapers who had appeared behind her for a split second before the hours she'd spent duelling with Tom in the Glade kicked in. She shot of a curse at the leader, a burly blond-haired, blue-eyed Aryan-esque wizard and ducked as spells started flying at her. She raised a shield and shot spells at her opposition rapidly even as her mind raced trying to think of ways to subdue them quickly. Her first thought was the tried and tested detainment charm Dolohov had developed but it required a minimum of 10 seconds to cast properly and worked best if she had cover or a partner to distract anyone who might try to attack her in the meantime. Really, that was the major drawback to the spell but otherwise it had worked well enough when they'd tested it.

She dodged spells as much as possible, knowing that casting and maintaining a shield would detract from her ability to be offensive but with seven opponents she was hard pressed to dodge all of their spells, so she was using a shield more often than she'd have liked. Her blood curdled as she realized most of the spells coming her way were minor hexes and jinxes. Small things that would temporarily disable her or disarm her but not injure or permanently incapacitate her. They wanted her alive for something, a thought that sent chills down her spine. She was already the centre of one budding Dark Lord's attention and had no desire to be the object of a second. Regardless, she took advantage of the fact, casting a number of nasty curses that only spending a lot of time with Tom had taught her.

She winced uncomfortably as a well-aimed blood freezing curse hit one of her opponents and he shouted as he went down convulsing with shivers. It was _not_ a pleasant spell to experience and after being hit with it a couple of times while she and Tom had practiced she felt horrible about using it now but she was badly outnumbered and didn't particularly want to contemplate defeat just yet.

She was panting badly a few moments later when she managed to gain a bit of breathing space after she'd _bombarda'd_ the ground between her and the Reapers still standing, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris that obscured and stunned her opposition. She pounced on the opportunity gratefully and began to cast the detainment spell when Abraxas shouted from the gate where he and the others had just managed to force their way through.

She turned stupidly to look at them. "What—" she managed to gasp before a solid, fast-moving object bowled into her and the world spun as she was side-along apparated away.

HG*TR

Abraxas snarled furiously as he watched Hermione face off against the Reapers. He paced the front of the gate helplessly. He needed to get in there and help her. She was an extraordinary witch but even she had limits and the odds of her coming out unharmed with 1 on 7 were not as good as he'd like. Plus, Tom would kill him if anything happened to her.

He felt Thoros grab his arm to stop his pacing. "Get your act together," Thoros hissed, "Pacing isn't going to help."

"I know that!" Abraxas snapped, turning to face Nott with a growl, "Dammit, Thoros! If she's hurt—"

"I'm perfectly aware of the consequences if she's harmed," Thoros murmured coolly, "Wringing your hands is not helping though."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Abraxas snarled, "The Wards are still up and the gate closed. We're trapped out here as surely as she is trapped in there."

"Wards are fallible," Thoros murmured, "I imagine if we all hit the gate at the same time with a great enough force we could blow a hole in them."

Abraxas stilled, "Explosion spell?" Thoros nodded and Abraxas shook his head. "It could get us in. And the resulting blast could injure Hermione," he disagreed.

"What other choice do we have?" Avery piped in, "She needs help. She can't keep up against seven forever and we have other tasks we need to complete."

Abraxas turned to watch Hermione spin around throwing up shields and curses as needed. Her reaction time was getting slower and he could count at least five others still fighting her. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," he relented and they arranged themselves in front of the gate.

Thoros pointed at the coat of arms in the centre of the gate. "Aim for that. It will be the weakest point – both in the gate and the Wards."

Abraxas glanced at the dozen and a half or so others that had apparated to the fortress when Hermione had summoned them. They'd detained the Reapers in the ambush Grindelwald had sent using the charm Dolohov had developed for them and left their wounded and two others to guard them. They could do this. He took a deep breath. "On three," he said, "Three, two, one."

" _BOMBARDA MAXIMA_!" they shouted in unison, watching as the pulse of purple light emitted from their wands smashed into the gates rattling them violently.

Abraxas smiled grimly. "Again!" he shouted, "Three, two, one!" Shouts of _BOMBARDA MAXIMA_ echoed around them and as the combined spells hit the gates this time, they exploded inward, the remains wrought iron gates curling where the force of the blast had broken them.

Abraxas rushed forward, closely followed by Thoros and the others. As he stepped through smouldering remains of the gate, he caught sight of Hermione with her back to them and breathed a sigh of relief. She was fine, and had apparently subdued her opponents sufficiently to begin casting the detainment spell. He stopped with horror as he saw the figure emerge from the clouds of dust, charging toward her.

"HERMIONE!" he yelled, knowing he was too far away to assist her and hoping that the warning would be enough.

Her concentration broken, she spun around to stare at them bewilderedly, only noticing the rogue opponent as he smashed into her smaller frame and the two spun out of existence.

HG*TR

Hermione stumbled as the weight of her unexpected assailant bowled her over and the sensation of side-along apparition faded away. She retched violently as she hauled herself to her hands and knees after her body rolled to a halt a few yards away from her assailant. Apparition was uncomfortable at the best of times – side-along apparition was worse – and being forcibly apparated by someone was nauseating to the point of being sick.

When she was finished, she scrabbled for her wand and hauled herself into a crouched stance looking around warily the dark forested clearing she'd been taken to for her captor. When she glanced toward where his body had been she noted it was gone and frowned. Strange that he hadn't monopolized on her incapacitation from the apparition. Unless…

She turned around abruptly, coming face-to-face with the man from the Three Broomsticks and Knockturn alley three days earlier. Hermione gaped at the bedraggled young man in front of her. Her wand point wavered at him uncertainly. "There's no fucking way," she hissed as she took in his scraggly shoulder length brown hair and ripped pants. His blue eyes reflected years beyond his apparent age and they were serious as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I assure you," he said, "I was as surprised as you when they told me." She could hear the faintest Scottish or Irish accent in his deep voice. He towered over her, a verifiable warrior of a man. Her eyes widened as she realized he had no shirt to hide his rippling abs and she averted her eyes quickly.

"They being the Morrigan," Hermione spat, " _They_ keep in touch, do they?"

He grimaced and her wand drooped slightly as she sensed he disliked the Celtic goddess of war just as much as she did. "Unfortunately."

"Fuck," she swore, "Please tell me you're a figment of my imagination."

"I'm sorry," he said, "If it's any consolation I'm not any happier about this than you." Her eyes narrowed at him and she glanced around the clearing they were in uncertainly.

"Where are they?" she snapped.

He shrugged. "I don't know. They appeared in my dwelling about a week ago, giving me these coordinates and a time. Told me to be here."

"And you are who I think you are," she said.

He blinked at her and shrugged. "Who do you think I am?" he asked.

Hermione swore and dug into the small bag that she'd cast an undetectable extension spell on. She brandished Connla's journal at him. "The person who wrote this," she said sharply, "Connla, son of Cú Chulainn."

He blanched upon seeing the journal and reached out as though to touch it. She shoved the journal back in her bag and raised her wand at him threateningly. "Yes," he responded. His voice was a deep growl and she flinched, "I am he."

Hermione began swearing under her breath. "The others?" she asked absently, "Sparticus, and Constantine XI? Or is it just you?"

"They are similar to us yes," Connla grunted, "Still alive, as it were. But not here with me. Perhaps, if this does not go as planned."

Hermione bristled at the unspoken threat and glanced around the clearing rapidly, her mind racing with the new information. She couldn't believe it. They were still alive. Connla and Spartacus after almost two millennia, and Constantine XI after 600 years. Granted she had no proof other than this man's admittedly very authentic reaction to her probing questions, but at this point she wouldn't discount anything. "I need to find Tom," she muttered finally.

"Tom?" Connla queried, and she blushed.

"My reason for being here," she said, "Like your father was for you."

Connla swore in a dialect she recognized as Celtic. "You're working with him?" he asked.

She jerked her head in a nod. "My instructions are not specific," she bit out, "Merely, prevent the wizarding wars he triggers. And since they conveniently dropped me in Tom's lap, who promptly disarmed and bound me so I couldn't harm him, killing him was out."

"He cannot live," Connla snarled, "He has broken the rules of the universe with his magic. His life is unnatural."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What about you?" she snapped, "It's been what? Almost two thousand years? I'd call that unnatural."

He laughed bitterly. "You don't know yet," he said, stepping closer and circling her. She swallowed and followed his movements nervously.

"I don't know what?" she snarled. He chuckled again and she snapped again. "Tell me!"

"We can't die," he said, "None of us. What the Morrigan did… when they took us out of our timelines, they removed us from time itself. We exist outside of it. We can affect the timeline but it can't affect us. So… we don't age, we don't die. We simply endure."

He laughed again at the explosion of swear words that emitted from the fiery witch. The tip of her wand sparked dangerously and she struggled to bring her heightened temper under control. "You're lying," she growled.

"Try to kill me then," he said, "Trust me _a thaisce_. We've tried multiple times to end our miserable existences. We can't kill each other, or be killed by the mundanes."

"I'm not a murderer," she hissed backing away from him as he advanced. She needed Tom right now to bounce theories off of.

"You can't harm me," he said, "Try, and you'll see."

" _No_ ," she snapped.

He shrugged in a silent _Have it your way_."You need to kill him," he said seriously and she growled at him.

"Well my hands are tied," she snapped defensively, "Conveniently, I might add. I don't know that I'd want to kill him even if I could, whether the Morrigan wanted me to or not."

HG*TR

Tom smiled slightly as he cast the final portion of the enchantment and a shimmering blue orb trapped the two quarrelling wizards. It was very similar to the one Dolohov had developed for their use but differed in one key aspect – it also sapped magical strength from those it trapped. The two were so engrossed in their argument that they failed to notice the containment field form around them and smirked. All he had to do now was wait for Hermione, Abraxas, and Orion to show up before they could implement the last stage of their plan.

He hissed as his ring suddenly burned and he swore as he realized the signal was from Hermione's.

 **A/N – Hello again! I'm hoping to wrap up this conflict in the next chapter but you never know… After last week's disastrous promise of two chapters, I make no promises for this week. I have the week off for once but I'm spending it with my parents and friends so I don't know when/if I'll have time to write. I will try to have a chapter by the end of the week though.**

 **Knowing you are there reading this is a balm to my heart. Thank you so much for all the reviews last week.**

 **Love,**

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 **Guest Reviewer(s) who reviewed many many chapters after discovering this fic last week… You know who you are. ; ) Thank you. Reading your reactions as you read was very amusing.**

 **Lady Voldemort – Dolohov's fate has been sealed. Never you fear. It is coming up but there are a few pressing issues in the meantime.**

 **Ariel – Thank you. : )**

 **Sarah – Hi. : ) Thank you for the concern. I'm currently ok, but the past couple months have been pretty tough for me to keep on top of everything and I guess it all started to catch up with me this week, resulting in me starting to burn out by the end of the week. Thank god for Reading Week, right?**


	29. Power Struggles

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine.**

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting again this week. I didn't end up writing all week and just wrote this today… I'm posting it with only the briefest of proofreading so please don't judge me for my grammar. I'll go over this again tomorrow and fix things up.**

 _A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer._

\- Khaled Hosseini, _The Kite Runner_

Abraxas swore explosively as Hermione disappeared with the Reaper. "Fuck!" he yelled as he ran forward to where she'd been standing and spun around as though she'd reappear. "Dammit!"

Thoros followed him more sedately, eyes scanning the smoking entrance hall warily for any other rogues. His face betrayed his unease though and it was as white as Abraxas felt his own was. Concern and fear etched into lines around their eyes as they contemplated what Tom might do to them when he found out Hermione was missing. Knowing Tom though, he probably already knew.

Abraxas stared at Thoros aghast as he waved his wand to dispel the smoke and dust in the air to reveal the Reapers Hermione had been fighting contained in glowing gold orbs. Their faces were pinched with anger at the detainment and Abraxas' shoulders slumped forward. "Who was he?" he asked gesturing at the trapped Reapers.

Thoros blinked and his eyes widened with understanding as he absorbed the sight of the containment fields. "Obviously not a Reaper," he murmured, "Or he would have been trapped."

Abraxas bit his lip anxiously as he counted them. Seven, the same number he'd counted when they'd appeared behind Hermione earlier. Who was her kidnapper then? Obviously not a Reaper, as Thoros had pointed out. "Dolohov?" he asked nervously.

Thoros cocked his head to the side as he thought it over and shook his head. "I don't think so," he replied, "I think she would have accounted for betrayal when she cast the spell. And Dolohov isn't stupid enough to linger anywhere Tom might find him after betraying him." They exchanged uneasy glances and Thoros breathed out heavily. "I think…" he said carefully after a long moment of silence, "We need to continue as planned."

Abraxas shook his head violently. "Unadvisable," he said tersely, "Tom will murder someone if we show up without her."

Thoros' jaw set stubbornly. "I know," he snapped, "But we have no way of knowing who took her or where she is now. She's not exactly defenseless either. She still has her wand and even disarmed she's perfectly capable of defending herself."

"But Tom—" Abraxas started to protest only to be cut off by Orion as he butted into the conversation.

"Thoros is right," Orion interjected, "Hermione can take care of herself. Tom might be angry but even he has to see that what happened was out of our control." Abraxas opened his mouth to make a retort but paused as Orion shot him a glare and pressed on. "Also, Tom is likely the only person who can track her down now. She could be anywhere."

Abraxas slumped even more as it dawned on him that they were right. The only thing to do was continue with the plan and hope Hermione could handle herself. He glanced around the semi-circle of young men who had accompanied Tom on this foolhardy mission. "Fine," he muttered, "Avery, Mulciber – you two should stay here and watch these prisoners. Everyone else should begin to secure the rest of the fortress and do as Tom instructed."

Everyone murmured their agreement and split off in pairs to implement stage three of Tom and Hermione's plan. Abraxas shivered as he watched them all disperse with the exception of Orion and Thoros. Somehow, without Hermione's quiet optimism, the outlook for their mission was looking grimmer than ever. The three exchanged grim looks before they shrugged and started off in search of Tom.

HG*TR

Tom swore. Loudly. The noise jolted Grindelwald and Dumbledore out of their little cocoon of ex-lover spite and their expressions mimicked each other in both surprise and curiosity as they noticed Tom's spell.

"What's this?" Grindelwald murmured, reaching out to touch the inner edge of the shimmering orb and jerking back as the containment field burned his skin and released a shower of sparks.

"Merlin's beard," Dumbledore breathed as he examined the blue orb more closely, "This is an incredible piece of magic. Did you design it Tom?"

Tom ignored both of them as he glared at his ring, mind racing uncomfortably fast. What had happened? When he'd left her, there hadn't been anyone nearby to challenge her and the rest of his cabal had been a message away – easily summoned. In fact, that's what she'd been doing as he left. Theoretically she'd be protected by them by now. Unless… she hadn't been able to get the gate open.

He whirled on Grindelwald snarling. "What measures did you put in place?" he snapped, brandishing his wand threateningly.

Grindelwald raised a blond eyebrow at him and smirked. "Why do you ask?" he responded lightly, unbothered by Tom's threatening stance. "Surely your men are capable of withstanding a bit of resistance."

"They are," Tom bit out, "She is."

"She?" Grindelwald repeated, looking amused. He glanced at Dumbledore, who shrugged. "This wouldn't be Miss Greenberg who goaded poor Albus here into visiting me, would it?"

Tom fought for control over his emotions as he glared at the Dark Wizard. The ring had only burned for a second. It could have indicated a close call, a near miss, anything really. He took a deep breath and focused on sending a message to her through the rings. She'd respond if she were able. He fixed a hard glare on the blond wizard standing in front of him. "What measures did you put in place for our arrival, Grindelwald?" he repeated his earlier question more calmly.

Grindelwald shrugged and relented. "My men were to ambush your men in the field you portkeyed to originally," he replied, "A few were to remain here and detain you and the witch accompanying you."

Tom swore again and Dumbledore looked at him reprovingly. "Language, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore murmured, reverting into his disappointed teacher façade.

"Go to hell," Tom snapped, ignoring the frown on Dumbledore's face as he subsided and focusing on Grindelwald. "You knew Dolohov had been found out."

Grinelwald smiled at him. "Yes," he replied, "Mr. Dolohov was not especially covert in his initial contact with me, and I, of course, knew the moment you read my reply to his warning and were aware of his treachery."

"Dolohov contacted you again," Tom stated angrily and Grindelwald nodded.

"He informed me of as much of the original plan as he knew of," he acknowledged easily, "I know you changed it after you discovered his treachery but he didn't know the details as I understand he wasn't privy to them. He was able to inform me the location you were to portkey to upon arrival though, and also to warn me of your arrival."

Sparks flew from the end of Tom's wand as Grindelwald revealed the depth of Dolohov's betrayal. He should have killed the backstabbing cretin when he had the chance. "What else?" Tom hissed, "What defenses did you put in place?"

Grindelwald shrugged. "Release me and we can talk," he bartered, "We were having a nice civilized conversation until you trapped us in this… containment fields." He raised a hand as if to touch the blue barrier again but stopped a hairsbreadth from touching it. "How did you come up with this anyway?"

Dumbledore nudged him. "It's fascinating. Quite clever," he interjected excitedly, "It traps anyone within it, maintaining the barrier with the trapped wizard's own magic. If the prisoner tries to cast anything to dismantle or dissolve the field it reflects them back upon the caster, while allowing people outside the field to cast into the containment cell…" He trailed off at the incredulous looks both Tom and Grindelwald threw his direction. "What?" he asked, "It's an extremely clever enchantment…" He seemed to realize for the first time that he was stuck within it and sobered abruptly. "Right."

Tom laughed. "Thank you. Dolohov invented it for this precise purpose and I modified it slightly to achieve a more… secure… containment field."

"Yes, very interesting. Now remove it and we'll talk," Grindelwald said.

"No."

"No?" Grindelwald laughed incredulously, "Your little friends are currently being conveyed to secure cells on the premises. You have nothing to back you up. In fact… I believe that that will be one of my Acolytes with your little spitfire girlfriend right now."

Tom tensed as someone knocked on the door. He turned so he had a clear view of both Grindelwald and Dumbledore in the containment spell, and the door to the study. He swallowed hard and cast several detection spells on the door before he visibly relaxed. "I doubt it," he said to Grindelwald with a smirk.

"Come in!" he called in a louder voice and smiled as Abraxas, Thoros and Orion quietly entered the room. His smile faltered when Hermione didn't appear behind them and Abraxas shook his head slightly at him.

"I believe you underestimated the abilities of your Reapers, Mr. Grindelwald," Abraxas said cheerfully in greeting. Grindelwald's face turned purple with rage as he lost his temper for the first time since Tom had entered his study and he opened his mouth to say something but Tom silenced him before he could utter a single syllable. That done, Tom raised a questioning brow at Abraxas but shook his head slightly again. "Everyone is fine," he said, "We hit a snag waiting for your summons, and then entering the fortress but we dealt with it easily enough."

"Hermione?" Tom asked coolly. The effort it took for him to sound as though he didn't care about her absence almost killed him but he managed it. Though not quite well enough to hide it from Abraxas or Thoros if the looks they shot him were any indication.

Abraxas and Thoros exchanged glances, obviously trying to figure out what to say. They were saved from answering as Orion stepped forward smoothly. "Momentarily detained, Milord," he murmured with a bowed head, "She'll be along shortly I'm sure."

Tom nodded sharply and turned back to face Grindelwald. He picked the Invisibility Cloak up from where it had puddled on the floor and smirked at the Dark Lord they'd come to defeat. Beside Grindelwald, Dumbledore froze and stared at the silvery fabric hanging from his hand in shock. "Well," he murmured, "It looks like everything is in order then, doesn't it?"

He removed the Silencing Spell from Grindelwald who sputtered at him, his face still an unnatural purple. "Impossible," he snarled, "My men are only the best—"

"Mine are better," Tom murmured fiddling with his wand, still anxious about Hermione, "Obviously." He looked over at Abraxas and the two others who had accompanied him. "I believe we are about done here," he said, "Just… one last thing."

He smirked at Dumbledore who was staring at the Cloak with an open jaw. Tom smirked at him and tapped the stone on his ring lightly, drawing the Transfiguration Professor's gaze to it. Horror washed over his face. "Mr. Riddle," he said, "Tom— Think very carefully about the path you want to take here. The artifacts in your possession are dangerous in the wrong hands…"

"Believe me, _sir_ ," Tom sneered, "I have thought _very_ carefully about the path I've chosen."

"What artifacts, Albus?" Grindelwald demanded, glancing between pupil and teacher questioningly. "What are the two of you talking about?"

Dumbledore ignored his ex-lover and reached a hand out to Tom. "I meant what I said earlier," he entreated, "You have so much potential, Tom. The potential to do some real good."

"I am," Tom said sharply, "I will be."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up incredulously. "You expect me to believe that after this?" he asked, gesturing around them at the containment field.

"I don't expect you to understand my motives, _sir_ ," Tom said, "My actions may appear questionable to you but your morals are not as white as you'd like everyone to believe either. The world does not divide easily between black and white. Rather it a spectrum of shades of grey."

"Power will corrupt you," Dumbledore tried again and Tom laughed.

"Power corrupts," he quoted imprecisely, "Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are rarely good. Would you consider yourself a _great_ man, _Professor_?"

Dumbledore swallowed hard. "I have always tried to maintain my integrity… I never said—"

"Enough," Grindelwald snapped, "What artifacts, Albus?"

"Funny thing that," Tom murmured, "Because they're probably among the items you covet most in the world." Grindelwald's eyes went wide as his eyes fixed on the cloak dangling from Tom's fingers. As Tom shifted, his gaze shifted to Tom's hands, taking in the ring, and he breathed in sharply.

"Those aren't— They can't be—"

"They are," Tom said, "And all I need is the wand you're carrying to complete the set. I know it's not your original. I know what it is."

"You know it's history? You know you have to beat me, don't you? That means you have to release me or you won't win its allegiance," Grindelwald shot back.

"Oh," Tom replied, eyes glinting, "Most definitely."

HG*TR

Hermione swore as she found herself in a full body-bind. She'd foolishly assumed that Connla would let her leave without a fight and turned her back on him to stalk out of the clearing. Only her face was free from the hex and she bristled as he carefully rearranged her limbs so she stood facing him. Her glare hardened as he plucked her wand from her hand and stepped back to survey her again.

"Listen to me, _caileag,_ " he hissed as he stepped so close to her frozen body that she could feel the spittle fly from his mouth, "You do not understand the forces your _gràdh_ has unleashed on the world by defiling his soul in the way he has. Balance must be restored and he _must_ die."

"But I won't be the one to kill him," she spat, "I physically can _not_. He's bound me to him using a spell that will reflect any pain I try to cause him back onto me a thousand-fold. I highly doubt he will give up that advantage." She flinched as his fingers dug into her chin and twisted her face to look into his more directly.

"I begin to see why Morrígu sent me," he muttered as he searched her face, "You're being honest."

"Fuck you," she snarled, "Do you just follow her around like the little _thrall_ you are? Doing what she says without question?"

Connla's eyes blazed with anger. "You know not of what you speak of," he warned.

"Then explain it to me," she snapped, "I am so tired of riddles and half-truths."

He deflated and stepped back. "No," he said, "I cannot. It is the one thing I cannot explain to you for you must figure out your task yourself."

"Then tell _them_ to stop interfering," she hissed, "I am doing the best I can in the circumstances _they_ put me in. If _they_ wanted me to kill Tom, _they_ should have deposited me elsewhere in this time. As it is, it's not an option anymore."

Connla dragged a hand through his hair roughly. "Fuck," he muttered, and she jolted at the modern swear word. "I'm sorry," he muttered and released her from the body-bind curse. She shifted into a fighting stance immediately and eyed him warily. He offered her her wand and she took it warily, relaxing fractionally.

"I tried," she said once the silence between them had stretched to unbearable lengths, "I tried to kill him once I realized who he was but I was injured and caught by surprise. _They_ really did drop me right into his lap. I didn't really stand a chance."

"You understand what he's done?" Connla asked harshly and she laughed bitterly.

"Unfortunately," she replied, "But I've managed to stop him from making more. In my time, he'd made seven." Connla drew in a sharp breath and looked at her disbelievingly. She laughed again. It was a sour noise in the otherwise silent clearing. "I know. I spent the better part of a year hunting them down and destroying them."

"What _do_ _they_ want then?" Connla asked and Hermione sighed as she settled onto a tree stump.

"There's a war in the future," she explained, "It was bloody."

Connla snorted. "This is Morrígu," he said harshly, "There is always a bloody war."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "So—so many people died. I was aligned on the opposite side of the war – against Tom – and in the final battle… we lost…"

Connla nodded. "And in battle you were killed as someone tried to save you, inciting Morrígu's power to make amends."

"Yes."

"Your directive is to avert that battle?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, "I believe the specific wording for the oath they forced me to swear _was I will do everything in my power to avert this particular battle coming to pass_."

Connla nodded again. "I can work with that," he said.

 **A/N: I suspect this fic will hit 300 reviews this week. A number I never thought I'd hit in my wildest dreams when I started this fic. So, a big thank you again to everyone for their follows and reviews. I am as always astounded by your support.**

 **Lastly, as I mentioned last week, this fic was nominated (and reached) the finals for the Haven Awards for Best Dark Fic and** **I would like to ask all my readers a quick favor. If you are enjoying reading this and think it is worthy… Would you vote for Morrigan's Curse in the finals round for me?**

 **Voting runs until Feb 28 and the link to do so is:**

 **goo. gl /forms/ afELVBndMJgT0fyf2**

 **(just copy and paste into your browser and delete the spaces)**

 **Thank you again.**

 **Love,**

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Rough Translations (Scottish Gaelic to English):

 _Caileag_ – "little girl"

 _Gràdh_ – "lover"


	30. All is Fair in Love and War

**Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit. Etc. Etc.**

 **A/N: Hi. :)**

 **(Please note I haven't proofread this yet… A task for tomorrow.)**

 _History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again._

\- Maya Angelou

Hermione blinked at Connla stupidly for a moment. "You can—"

"Work with that," Connla repeated smirking at her. She blinked again as her thoughts started to race. Was he offering help? His body language had suggested he disliked the Morrigan as much as she did but his actions had suggested he was bound to do their bidding regardless.

"You want to help me?" she asked stupidly as she tried to wrap her head around what he was offering her exactly. He scoffed at her and she scowled. "Can you help me?" she asked more shrewdly.

His eyes darkened momentarily and her wand raised fractionally as her stance deepened. "I owe _them_ nothing," he snapped.

"Then why are you here?" she rebutted angrily, "If you are not beholden to _them_ , why obey their summons?"

His eyes closed briefly and when they opened they had a silver sheen to them for a moment. "Because it is easier to pretend we are still under Morrígu's thumb than it is to disobey," he spat, "Our _situation_ is more complicated than you can imagine."

"I'm getting that," she replied caustically, "Maybe you could cut the cryptic bullshit and elaborate."

Connla shook his head and sank down onto a boulder near the edge of the small clearing. "I can help," he said more calmly, "I can't elaborate more than that. Eventually yes, but until your oath runs its course I am bound by other laws which prevent me from explaining."

"How?" she demanded. Her arm was starting to ache from being on the defensive for so long but she refused to let her guard down. For all she knew, he was trying to lull her into a false sense of security.

"Tell me what alterations you've made so far and I'll see," Connla shrugged.

Hermione scowled at him. "That's—" She hissed and jerked back as her ring burned briefly on her finger and the snakes writhed around her finger. Connla watched her reaction with curiosity, leaning forward on the boulder he'd sat on while they talked to take a better look at the ring adorning her left hand. "What is it?" he asked quietly, "Why is the ring glowing?"

"It's not—" Hermione sighed and glanced down at the ring to see that some of the runes etched into the bodies of the snakes were indeed glowing. She lifted the ring to eye level to inspect the changes more closely, rolling her eyes. "You couldn't make it less conspicuous, could you?" she hissed under her breath, "Honestly, I think the burning sensation was enough."

Connla laughed at her reaction, but still regarded her with a puzzled air. He raised an eyebrow at her as she raised her head to look at him and she sighed again. "In my timeline," she explained, "Tom branded his followers with a mark on their forearm. I refined the concept and came up with a ring that his followers could wear. I thought it would be… more elegant in execution than a brand."

Connla's face twisted in disgust. She could tell from his expression that the very idea sickened him. He stared at her ring, sitting on her ring finger as though it would bite him. "He didn't…"

"Mine is different," she said stiffly to cut him off. "I can remove mine, and none of the binding enchantments are imbued in the metal."

"Still…"

She glared at him. "It was this or let him decide to use a brand again," she said sharply, "My influence is limited here. I've told you that. I can't stand against him because of the binding he cast on me, so my only option is to work within the parameters he's provided."

Connla's lips thinned into a straight line as he nodded stiffly at her, conceding the point. "Why is it glowing?"

She looked down at the glowing runes again and ran a finger across them lightly as she read them again. "It's a message," she said softly, "To make sure I'm unharmed."

Connla sneered but had no response to that. Hermione ignored him and carefully concentrated on the ring to respond. She flinched when Connla's hand landed heavily over hers. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

She blinked and glared back at him. "Replying," she snapped back.

Connla shook his head irritably. "No," he said firmly, "Wait."

She bristled and tried to shake his hand off her but he wouldn't budge. "Why?" she demanded, "He'll find me whether I respond or not."

"Does it matter?" Connla retorted, "Don't. Not yet."

Hermione's eyes narrowed Connla's head tilted to the side and his brow furrowed in concentration as though he were listening to a voice she couldn't hear. When he looked at her, his eyes were silver again. She frowned, wondering what the change in colour signified just as he spoke again. "You'll break his concentration at a critical moment if you respond now," he said.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him _how_ he knew that but decided against it at the last minute. Given what she knew about the Morrigan, she wasn't sure she actually wanted to know. And if they were somehow communicating with him now, she certainly didn't want to know that that was what she had to look forward to in her future. "Speaking of which" she said instead, "I need to get back to Tom. Or are you going to stop me again?"

Connla regarded her inscrutably for a long moment and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Finally, he shrugged, "I still don't understand why you insist on returning to that _mortair_ , but it is, as you say, your show."

She huffed. "Fine," she snapped, "Let's go."

HG*TR

Tom breathed out a sigh of relief as they finally managed to maneuver the containment field holding Grindelwald and Dumbledore into the courtyard of Nuremgard. He nodded at Thoros as they placed the trapped wizards on the far side of the courtyard. The process had been time consuming and irritatingly complicated – not least because the two wizards contained within it had fallen into another petty squabble – but they'd finally accomplished it. He frowned as he surveyed the circular area, reaching out with his senses to see if he'd missed any enchantments that might impede him later. When he found no active or latent magic in the area he nodded curtly and turned to Abraxas.

"You know what to do?" he asked and smiled at the blonde's sharp nod of acknowledgement, "Perfect. Let's begin then, shall we?"

Everyone who had accompanied Tom moved to ring the courtyard in an uneven circle. Tom moved to stand opposite Grindelwald and Dumbledore and smirked at them. He caught Abraxas' eye and inclined his head slightly. It was time to change history.

With a deep breath, Abraxas raised his wand, the signal for the others to do the same. Together his followers began to cast a massive containment spell over the courtyard to hold Tom and both Grindelwald and Dumbledore.

"Tom," Dumbledore hissed, "Stop this foolishness at once. There's still an opportunity—"

"Shut up," Tom said mildly as he watched dispassionately as the transparent gold field closed, trapping them within.

"I must agree with Albus, Mr. Riddle," Grindelwald rumbled, "The wand I hold is unbeatable. The most powerful of the three Hallows. Even with the help of the other two Hallows you can't hope to win against me."

Tom smirked at him. "We'll see," he said simply, and dispelled the modified field surrounding the current Dark Lord and his ex-lover. As he watched the containment field dissolve, he turned the ring holding the Resurrection Stone around his finger three times. A slight girl with Dumbledore's eyes and long brown hair that hung down her back in loose waves materialised between Tom and his opposition.

Grindelwald's face went white and Dumbledore staggered to his knees. "Ariana?" Dumbledore exhaled in a ragged tone.

"Brother," she murmured, "Gellert."

"No," Grindelwald snarled, brandishing his wand as though that would dispel the apparition but seemingly unable to cast a spell. Ariana shot a pitying look at the two wizards she faced and turned to face Tom.

"This is cruel," she said, "You shouldn't have called me. I am their past, nothing more."

"You shaped them," Tom responded curtly, "The guilt of your death shaped them and the events leading up to this duel."

She shook her head, eyes wide. "Another force is in play," she countered, "The one that sent you."

"Yes," Tom said watching her, ready to banish her the moment she indicated she would be uncooperative.

"You want me to weaken their resolve to win," she said, "Shatter them with guilt that is no longer deserved. I forgave them long ago." Her voice turned singsong as she glanced at the shock-frozen wizards behind her. "I do not blame them any longer. Clever, ambitious boys with big plans and the means to achieve them."

Dumbledore shuddered as he sucked in a deep breath at her words. "Ariana," he almost keened and she stepped toward him, fingers outstretched to touch his face lightly.

"You clever man," she whispered, "It's ok, brother, you've paid your debt." She walked slowly back toward Tom. "Give me one good reason I should help you," she whispered.

"To save hundreds if not thousands of innocents from dying," Hermione's voice was hard as she spoke from the shadowed recesses of the courtyard. It was Tom's turn to suck in a shocked breath as he spun around to stare at her. She stepped out from the shadows, carefully avoiding Tom's keen gaze. Tom's eyes narrowed as he caught a flash of movement in the shadows behind her, wondering who could possibly be there when everyone with the exception of Dolohov was accounted for. Her eyes met his accidentally for the briefest moment and she shook her head imperceptibly at him in answer to his silent question.

"How do you know?" Ariana snapped, "How can you know that?"

"I will not divulge my secrets here," Hermione said coldly as she stopped at the edge of the containment field. Tom's eyes scanned her eagerly, looking for any sign of injury. Her hair was wilder than normal and filled with twigs and leaves but he saw no sign of her being hurt besides a few scratches and bruises. He felt himself relax slightly, knowing she was not seriously harmed.

"Now tell them." Her tone held an edge of command that made the dead girl flinch.

"No," she breathed, looking back at the two men who had been lovers once. Whose love had been torn apart by her death.

" _Do it_ ," Hermione hissed, her voice cracking like a whip in the utter silence that had fallen over the courtyard.

"No!"

"Tell us what?" Dumbledore asked unevenly, his eyes drinking in the sight of his dead sister, "Ariana, what is she going on about?"

"Don't you want to know who was directly responsible for your sister's death?" Hermione asked in response, "It's haunted you for _decades,_ hasn't it? Part of the reason you still covet the Hallows is because of the opportunity to see her again. To make amends."

Dumbledore flinched with every word she spoke, his head bowing lower at every moment. "Yes," he breathed. He looked up at Ariana beseechingly. "Ariana," he whispered, "Please."

"And if it doesn't absolve you, Albus?" Ariana asked harshly, "What then?"

Grindelwald snorted derisively. "Does it matter?" he asked, finally recovering from his shock, "You're dead. You've been dead for 40 years."

"Yes," Albus cried, turning to Grindelwald angrily, "It does! She was my _sister_."

"Enough!" Ariana snapped, "Haven't the two of you fought enough? Isn't it enough that I died because the two of you were arrogant young men who thought they could rule the world?"

"I am well on my way to that achievement," Grindelwald snarled.

Ariana sighed exasperatedly and turned to Hermione who was still hovering at the courtyard's edge. "I see what you mean," she whispered, "I understand. But…"

Her thin shoulders slumped as she seemed to come to a decision. "They shared the blame," she said, her eyes fluttering shut, "It matters not who cast the final curse because they're both to blame. Because my death was folly. Caused entirely by the arrogance of youth." Her eyes closed and her breath heaved out in a repressed sob.

"But—" she broke off abruptly, her tone anguished, "Albus was the one to cast the curse that ended my life."

Dumbledore's face drained of what little colour it contained and his shoulder's shook with sobs. A hushed silence fell over the courtyard as everyone absorbed Ariana's confession. The only sound was Ariana's anguished mumblings and Dumbledore's sobs. I'm so sorry, Albus," she whispered, "So sorry…"

Grindelwald brayed with laughter and Tom waved his hand to banish Ariana's wraith back behind the veil. "Priceless," Grindelwald howled, tears streaming down his face, "After everything you've said – everything you've accused me of – you are the reason she's dead."

Dumbledore howled with rage at the jab, losing any semblance of control over his emotions and actions. He lunged at Grindelwald with a wordless scream, intent on doing what with his bare hands, Tom didn't know. Grindelwald flicked his wand lazily before Dumbledore could reach him and Dumbledore flew across the courtyard and smashed against the gold dome in a shower of sparks. He slumped to the ground with a groan, slipping into unconsciousness, and Grindelwald turned to Tom with a slight smile pulling at his mouth.

"Gryffindors," he sighed, raising his wand in a salute, "Isn't that what you Hogwarts alumni say if someone is so foolishly reckless?"

Tom was startled into a laugh and he grinned at Grindelwald. "I suppose," he said, his eyes slanting toward the only other Gryffindor in the courtyard. A lion among snakes. She was stock still, her eyes narrow and carefully examining the scene in front of her. "Luckily, I am less inclined to such reckless displays of emotion."

Grindelwald chuckled and bowed slightly. "Shall we do this, then?" he asked.

Tom smirked at him as he bowed slightly in response. "Gladly."

He wasted no time shooting a series of curses at Grindelwald, who stepped aside the first volley of spells easily, blocking the few strays that were still on a trajectory to hit him easily. He laughed as Tom cast another volley at him which he deflected with a single wave of his wand. He hadn't yet cast a single offensive spell. "Give up," he chuckled, "Your efforts have been valiant thus far. You are exceptionally talented and it would be a shame to have to kill you."

Tom snarled when he realized he was being toyed with. His wand slashed as he used Dolohov's favorite curse and felt satisfaction as Grindelwald jumped out of the way of the bright purple curse with wide eyes. "What was that?" he asked, finally beginning to engage Tom.

Tom shrugged. "Something some I know thought up," he replied easily, shielding against Grindelwald's cutting spell. "Is that the best you can do? If so, your skills have been vastly exaggerated."

Grindeelwald chuckled as he shot a volley of curses at him. Tom winced as the yellow beam of an entrails expelling curse narrowly missed and he ducked under another cutting curse. "You wish, boy," he hissed, finally attacking Tom with the ferocity he'd expected earlier.

Tom laughed, exhilarated, as he managed to match the Dark Lord spell for spell and the speed of spell fire increased from both parties until they were both straining to keep up with the pace. Tom's eyes widened as Grindelwald smiled ferally at him and spells suddenly shot from the end of his wand quicker than Tom could retaliate, let alone dodge.

Tom swore as a cutting curse sliced his leg, and he staggered. The second beam of green light just barely avoided grazing him as his stumble shifted his position just enough. The third curse, a bright white beam of light that he didn't recognize, hit him though and he blinked woozily as his vision flickered in and out of focus.

He blinked as his focus returned. Hermione stood in front of him. He looked around wildly, noting that they weren't in the courtyard anymore. Weren't even in Germany. Instead they stood in the room she'd appeared in all those months earlier. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance. Silky red fabric clung to her curves, plunging to reveal her cleavage, with a slit down one side of the skirt to reveal a long slim leg. Her lips were painted a bright red to match the dress. Gold eyeshadow, and dark mascara framed her eyes, bringing out the flecks of gold in them. He swallowed hard as he stared at her. He'd never seen her in anything so revealing, or with make-up on and it made his throat uncomfortably dry.

"Tom," she whispered. He blinked again, shaking off the vision she made in front of him. "Tom!" Her voice was sharper when he ignored her, trying to figure out what had happened. He'd been duelling Grindelwald… How had he gotten here? What was happening? The last thing he could clearly remember was being hit by that white spell.

"Hermione," he muttered, "What happened? Where—"

"Shh…" she breathed. Her fingers brushed his lips and he looked down at her, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. She didn't touch him willingly. She… He froze as she leaned up and pressed her lips against his. He pushed her away roughly.

"Hermione, what's gotten into you?" he snapped.

Her eyes fluttered up to meet his in confusion and hurt flickered in their depths. She took a step forward and pressed the palm of her hand into his chest, fisting it within the fabric of his shirt. "Tom," she murmured as he shook his head, "What's wrong? I thought you wanted this?"

She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his again, catching him unaware. He groaned as she nipped at his bottom lip, sucking it, and he relented slightly, moving his lips against her forcefully for a moment before pulling back unsteadily. He trembled under the touch, resisting, and stiffened as she moved her lips along his jaw.

Something was wrong. Hermione wasn't comfortable enough to act this way around him yet, much as he wished she was. "I… thought… you… wanted…" she murmured between the light caresses and he felt himself begin to relent to her attentions again, "to… possess… me."

Her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt shook him out of his daze and he pushed her away from him again, causing her to stumble backwards. "What is going on here?" he snarled, stalking toward her. His hands gripped her shoulders tightly and he shook her violently.

"I don't know," she hissed, eyes blazing suddenly, "I thought you wanted this. He said you wanted this!"

Tom froze. "Who said I wanted this?" he asked warily, releasing her. She shrugged, staring at the wall behind him. "Who, Hermione?" he roared, just as he heard her scream.

"Tom!" He blinked and when his eyes reopened, the world spun woozily.

"Tom," her voice pleaded as he raised a hand to his forehead, "God dammit, Tom! Get off the bloody ground and finish this!"

Tom struggled to make sense of the swirling colours whirling in his vision. What the hell had that curse done to him? "Dammit, Abraxas!" he heard Hermione shriek, "Let me in there! I fucking swear I'll—" Her voice broke off abruptly and Tom's sudden panic that something had happened to her gave him the determination he needed to clear his vision again.

His gaze sought her out, finding her on the edge of the courtyard, limbs struggling to free herself from the restraint of a Viking-esque man. Her mouth moved but no sound escaped and Tom knew that someone, possibly Abraxas from the strained expression on the blond wizard's face as he hovered nearby the thrashing witch, had placed her under a silencing spell. Tom felt his blood boil as he realized he had no idea who was restraining her and that she was being restrained against her will.

He rolled to his feet and froze as he felt the tip of a wand press into his back. A hand reached around his body to pluck his wand from his hand and Grindelwald chuckled. "So many interesting things in your head," he murmured, "Your _fiancée_ is especially intriguing. What should I do with her first after I dispatch you? Or should I keep you alive so I can force you to watch as I wreak her?"

Tom's body shook with rage as he turned slowly to face the German Dark Lord. "Keep your filthy hands off her," he said. His voice came out as a low growl and Grindelwald chuckled again.

"Struck a nerve, have I?" he whispered, "It's so unfortunate I'll have to kill you. You would have been the ideal ally. We could have done great things together."

"Screw you," Tom hissed. He screwed his eyes shut, remembering all of the sessions he and Hermione had spent in the glade honing their magic. Practicing shaping the world to their will. His breath hissed out as he focussed, forcing his magic into conjuring vines from the ground by Grindelwald's feet, wrapping around his legs loosely so the other wizard wouldn't know what was happening until it was too late. Tom smirked slightly, remembering the time Hermione had trapped in exactly the same manner, as the vines snaked over his opponent's shoulders and began to coil around his arms.

Grindelwald snarled, trying to shake the vines as Tom snapped his fist closed, tightening the vines around his victim. He reached out, plucking both his wand and the Elder Wand. "I'll take that," he whispered, his smirk widening at Grindelwald's outraged expression.

He tucked his wand into his pocket and raise the Elder Wand to eye level, so it's tip was pointed directly between Grindelwald's. "Now," he said, "Shall we end this?"

Grindelwald breathed in sharply. "Don't," he said, and if Tom didn't know better, he would have thought the man was begging him.

Tom chuckled. "Don't worry," he breathed, "I'll let you live." The Elder Wand thrummed in his hand and Tom grinned. He possessed them all. The Hallows were his. " _Ligabis magicae_ ," he whispered, looking on in satisfaction as the colour drained from Grindelwald's before transitioning to a sick green and then grey as the nauseating sensation of being without magic swept over him.

"No," Grindelwald snarled. "No!" The word was drawn out as an agonised scream that grated on Tom's nerves so he flicked his new wand to silence him.

He stood stock still for a moment, letting the victory fill his veins with fire, and when he couldn't contain it any longer he whooped. He spun around in a circle, pausing as someone bowled into him. Hermione. Without thinking, he gripped her around the waist and swung her around in a circle, both of them laughing.

"Tom!" she gasped as he set her down. Her eyes shone with excitement and she flung her arms around his neck, unable to contain herself. They'd done it.

"We did it!" he whispered with an incredulous grin on his face, "We really did it!" He picked her up again and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. She smiled against him, fingers clinging to his hair as Abraxas and the others crowded around laughing.

. Tom smirked as he turned his head to look back at Grindelwald one more time before he turned his back on the now impotent wizard to survey his grinning friends.

"Call the Aurors," he ordered them, "We're done here."

 **A/N: And the epic battle concludes… Was it everything you guys hoped for? It only took, like, 4 chapters.**

 **Thank you so much for your patience the past few weeks. Real life has been a bit crazy and I needed a break from this for a bit. I can't guarantee weekly updates at the moment because I have a multitude of other more important things to deal with like the lab work I was supposed to start in January but haven't still (It's wearing on me. Every time I think I can start, something else crops up that I have to deal with and it's stressing me out to no end). I promise that despite slowing down the pace of updates I will not be abandoning this. (Especially because I finally know how it's all going to end…)**

 **Thank you for all of the reviews, follows/favorites and comments.**

 **Sending my love,**

 **flames**


	31. A Matter of Trust

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…**

 **A/N: Please note this hasn't been proofread yet. Also... We've hit 100,000 words people! Woo! I can't believe it.**

 **For AvalonTheLadyKiller who had a profound influence on the shape of this chapter's plot.**

Tom stiffened when the brown-haired man who had restrained Hermione during his duel with Grindelwald cleared his throat. Tom's eyes whipped over to absorb the sight of the bare-chested man leaning casually against one of the pillars lining the courtyard. He felt his breath hitch with anger as he remembered her struggling against the man's arms as he held her back. His anger mounted as their victory slid from his conscious mind, taking a back seat to the threat he felt emanating from the stranger.

Hermione stilled beside him as she sensed his exultation evaporate and he turned in a swift motion to point his new wand – the Elder Wand – at the smirking bastard. Abraxas, Orion and the others sensing the change in mood also fixed their wand points on the stranger as Hermione tugged on his sleeve urgently.

"Tom," she whispered frantically, "Leave him for now. Please."

Tom growled as he turned slightly to face her, wand still fixed on the stranger. "He touched you," Tom hissed and Hermione flinched.

"I know," she responded, "I would have done something stupid if he hadn't. We might have lost. Just wait until we've dealt with the Aurors. Please." He ignored her and Hermione's fingers scrabbled at his arm as he took a step forward. "Tom," she hissed, "Stop."

Tom's eyes flickered to meet hers. There was no guile hiding in them and he felt himself relax slightly although he positioned himself so he could keep an eye on the stranger. "Who is he?" he snapped out, watching Hermione wince again.

"Wait," she cautioned and her eyes flashed angrily in response to his impatient snort.

"Is he the reason you were _detained_?" he asked, watching the young man smirk at them from across the courtyard.

Hermione paled slightly and grasped his elbow firmly, drawing him away from their exuberant friends reluctantly. " _Yes_ ," she said, eyes flashing when they were out of earshot of most of his cabal, "But it's not what you think. He's not one of Grindelwald's Reapers or anything. And he can help us."

"Really?" he purred as her face turned white and he leaned closer, "Because it looked an awful lot like he touched you without permission."

"Fuck, Tom. Now is not the time to be possessive. We still have a front to put up for the Aurors and it has to be united. Stop jumping to conclusions and listen to me," she snapped, "He needed to talk to me, so he took me somewhere we could chat. And he can help."

"Help how?" Tom spat, waving his hand to gesture at the now subdued atmosphere in the courtyard, "Because I think we've got this mostly under control."

"Not with Grindelwald, idiot," she retorted, "With _them_. Tom, that's _Connla_."

Tom stilled and turned to look at the shirtless man again in disbelief. "I— You said— How?"

"I know what I fucking said," she muttered looking annoyed, "And we need to talk about _how_ later because that particular conversation is either going to make you very happy or aggravate you into a rage and I'd rather not find out which at the moment, ok?"

HG*TR

Hermione glared at Tom in exasperation as she watched him open his mouth to argue. She held up a hand and pressed her fingers to his lips to prevent him from speaking. "Stop," she commanded, feeling the last dregs of exhilaration at actually _winning_ evaporate with his mulish expression, "Wait until we're home and can talk in private. You don't want the details of this splashed around. That _is_ Connla and he _can_ help us or I wouldn't be vouching for him right now."

Tom sneered at her and looked back toward Connla with a scowl. He looked as though he wanted to argue more but a series of loud cracks echoing through the courtyard indicating the arrival of the Aurors seemed to subdue him. "Fine," he retorted, "But he's under guard until I say so and I'm holding you responsible for anything he does." Hermione shrugged and watched him flick his hand at Avery and Mulciber and nod toward the Celt. They brushed their fingers across their rings in acquiescence and moved to flank Connla.

The Celt raised his eyebrow at Hermione as the two wizards approached him and a smirk toyed at the corner of his mouth as he regarded her. Beside her, Tom bristled and Hermione placed her hand on his arm to try to calm him. It seemed to work and he turned back to her with a bit of his previous elation sneaking back into his expression. "We did it," he said in a wondering tone again.

She laughed as she felt herself relax slightly and shrugged. "We did," she agreed. Crisis averted for the moment, she let some of the euphoria wash over her again and she clasped Tom's arm as he led her back to the centre of the courtyard to greet the Aurors.

HG*TR

Tom smirked at the expressions on the Aurors' faces as they appeared on the scene and absorbed the sight of Grindelwald and Dumbledore once again trapped in containment fields. Dumbledore was still unconscious but beginning to come around if his furrowed brow and pained grimaces were any indication of his condition. Grindelwald had fallen silent after a period of screaming expletives and begging them to return his magic. Now he stood, hands hanging clenched by his sides, face white and drawn.

Tom's cabal stood in a loose formation at the centre of the courtyard watching the Aurors barrel onto the scene, wands drawn and anger etched into their features. None of the cabal made a move for their wands as the mob of angry wizards swarmed around them, demanding they drop their wands and Tom almost laughed as they stopped dead upon seeing the containment field holding Grindewald. The Aurors lowered their wands slowly, confusion evident on their faces as they tried to discern what had happened.

Finally one – a wizard with a grizzled face and short grey hair – stepped forward, gesturing for the others to fall back. "What happened here?" the leader snapped. Tom did laugh then as he stepped forward with his hands raised in a universal gesture of surrender.

"I would think that was obvious," Tom said, "We defeated Grindelwald."

The Head Auror gaped at him and glanced back at the other Aurors uncertainly. "You took Grindelwald and his men down?" he asked incredulously, scanning the courtyard, "With two dozen men? Our last estimates of Grindelwalds Reapers had them at a 100 strong."

"Closer to 150 actually," Abraxas countered, stepping forward. "They're currently locked in the dungeons. Most of them anyway."

Tom smirked. "I trust you and your men are capable of dealing with the few remaining stragglers," he interjected with a slight frown as he appraised the Aurors standing around them. Those close enough to hear the jab flushed angrily and moved for their wands once again. The Head Auror shook his head, signalling his men to back down.

The Head Auror's jaw was slightly open in shock when he turned back to Tom. "It's not possible," he said weakly, staring at the evidence before him, "Less than two dozen men and…" He trailed off and just stared at the group assembled in the courtyard. "How?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Fairly easily," Tom replied with a smirk, "My lovely fiancée stumbled across evidence that Albus Dumbledore had romantic ties to Grindelwald in his youth and that he was planning on joining Grindelwald despite their estrangement several decades ago. We followed Dumbledore here once we determined he was going to approach Grindelwald and…" He trailed off with a shrug, gesturing to the scene around them. "You see the result."

The Head Auror shook his head in disbelief. "Why didn't you approach us when you discovered Dumbledore's intentions?" he asked, "You all look like you're barely out of school. Fuck, my daughter's not much younger than you, I'd say. You're just kids."

Tom bristled slightly. "With all due respect, _sir,_ everyone in this courtyard is of age. We didn't think anyone would believe us," he replied easily, hiding his anger at the older man's condescension, "Professor Dumbledore was a respected member of society. His and Mr. Flamel's work on the 12 Uses of Dragon's Blood is renowned. Who would believe us when it was his word against ours?"

The Auror scowled but conceded the point. "Well," he said, "We'll need to take statements from all of you but then you're free to leave."

HG*TR

Hermione barely regained her footing from their return Portkey before Tom grabbed her arm in a harsh grip and dragged her out of the drawing room to their bedroom suite. She was aware of him pausing long enough to shoot a couple of parting orders over his shoulder, but was more focussed on not throwing up than paying attention to Tom's instructions. Whoops and cheers erupted as they left the room and followed them down the hall before they were cut off sharply by the closing door.

"Explain," Tom snapped as he dropped her arm and rounded on her. Hermione closed her eyes and sagged slightly in defeat.

"Tom, please not now," she whined. Her head spun and she was tired. It had been a long day for all of them and she didn't want or need Tom to insist on prolonging it to discuss Connla.

"Hermione," Tom's voice was sharp and she flinched backward at the anger in it. She couldn't remember the last time his voice had been so cold when he spoke to her. "He kidnapped you. Prevented you from contacting me with the ring. At least I _hope_ that's the reason you never responded to my message because if it's not…" His eyes examined her coldly as she trailed off, and she hunched her shoulders miserably as she inclined her head slightly. She didn't want to deal with this right now. "And to top it all off he touched you without permission. You're _mine,_ Hermione."

At his assertion of ownership she bristled, somehow dredging up the energy to fight back. "I'm not a fucking possession," she hissed, "Besides you know as well as I do that _they_ hold all of the cards despite everything I'm doing to outmaneuver them. And _they_ sent him."

Tom ignored the second half of her retort and watched her with a glint in his eyes. "Aren't you?" he asked icily and she snarled as she felt the binding between them twitch.

"You fucking bastard," she snarled, "What happened to respecting me? What happened to trusting me?" The hurt she'd felt when she realized Tom had altered her careful plans without telling her bubbled up without warning and she fought for control of her emotions before she could start crying.

"What the hell does that have to do with us housing the man who kidnapped you?" Tom retorted, his eyes flashing red.

"Everything!" Hermione shrieked, "Because you didn't tell me about Dolohov. You didn't tell me about the change of plans or give me any warning that there was a good chance something would go wrong. I was ambushed by seven of Grindelwald's fucking Reapers. Seven! And it wasn't a chance meeting. No, it was premeditated and I'm lucky I wasn't injured or _killed_ because _someone_ didn't see it to inform me of a certain Russian wizard's betrayal!"

"I repeat," Tom hissed, "What—"

"If you'd told me, I might not have been caught flatfooted," she snapped, cutting him off, "And I might have been more prepared when Connla literally bowled me over out of nowhere and Apparated me away from Nuremgard."

"I didn't tell you because your part in the plan didn't change!" Tom snapped and Hermione laughed at how ridiculously _weak_ that excuse was.

"So what?" she screamed, "So what if my role hadn't changed? Tom, I could have been _killed_ because you didn't make me aware of the increased risk and it would have been your fault if I did."

"I still don't see how—" Tom started to say but Hermione interrupted him again.

"Cut the feeble excuses and evasions, Tom," she snapped, "If you don't trust me, fine. I'd like to think after everything I've done—"

"I trust you," Tom protested and Hermione snorted derisively. When she spoke again her voice was cool and Tom blanched.

"If you'd trusted me, you would have told me about Dolohov," she pointed out, "And we would have reworked our plan appropriately. Instead you withheld critical information and then changed the plan without telling me. It was _my_ plan, Tom. I spent _months_ concocting it. I knew it better than anyone else and you disregarded all of that." Her voice broke slightly as she continued. "And now you're acting some Neanderthal because you feel threatened by someone that could be a huge asset. If that's trust, then I don't know that I want to have it. And if you can't trust me, we're done." She turned away from Tom and wrapped her arms around herself as she retreated from him.

"What do you mean we're done?" Tom's voice was strained as he spoke behind her.

"I mean, that I can't be in a relationship with someone who doesn't trust me," she said without looking back. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered waking up next to him and their ensuing kiss just a couple days ago. Everything had been going so well and she couldn't tell whether his feelings were real or if he'd just manipulated her into thinking they were to pull her closer.

"Hermione," Tom protested, "You're jumping to conc—"

"Am I?" Hermione snapped, whirling around. A single tear slunk down her cheek as she glared at him. "If you have so much trust in me, why am I the only one who wasn't inform of the changes in the plan? Why didn't you tell me Tom? Why don't you trust me when I say Connla wants to help and that nothing untoward happened?"

"Hermione," Tom protested again, weakly, "Just—"

"No," she snarled, turning around again, and heading toward her bedroom, "I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Feel free to lock me in if you're afraid I'll slip off after you leave." She managed to make it into her room without him speaking again and before she closed the door to the bedroom she turned around again and said emotionlessly as a stray thought hit her.

"He – the Head Auror – he's going to try and take the credit." The officious Head Auror's eyes had glinted greedily as his men had finished taking statements and dismissed Tom's cabal. The man's condescending attitude had set her teeth on edge upon his arrival. His dismissal of them as though they were still incompetent school children had been the final straw to set Hermione seething. Now she just felt drained but she thought Tom should know regardless of how conflicted she felt at the moment.

Tom's jaw clenched and he nodded sharply. "I know," he said, "Abraxas is on it already." She nodded and then shut the door firmly before he could say anything else. As she listened for his receding footsteps, she collapsed against the closed door and tears started to stream down her face.

HG*TR

Tom raked his fingers through his hair as Hermione slammed the door shut behind her. He couldn't believe he'd messed up again. She was right. His omission of the change in plans – regardless of the fact that it didn't really affect her part in them – could have gotten her killed. He'd trusted that she'd be cautious anyway – and she had – but she also hadn't expected to be ambushed by men expecting her to be there. Expecting her and ready to confront her, while she'd been completely unprepared.

As for whatever the hell was going on with Connla… She couldn't have anticipated that. She couldn't have even avoided it if she _had_ known. He didn't even really understand why he was making such a big deal about it. Except… when his ring had burned he'd been scared out of his mind that she'd been injured. And when she hadn't responded to his ring message… There were so many reasons why she might not have and he automatically assumed it was because Connla had stopped her.

He sighed, raking his hair one last time before he retreated from their shared rooms – leaving the door unlocked behind him – to give her the space she'd requested.

 **A/N: Hi all. =) I didn't get as far here as I wanted and Tom and Hermione refused to cooperate. All they wanted to do was argue *rolls eyes* Children, really…**

 **I apologize for how long it's taken me to update. This chapter has been half-written for weeks but there were a few things in real life that needed to take priority before I finished this chapter. Real life obligations are starting to wind down and my yoga classes are finished for the term so I should have more spare time to write now. I'll try to regain some semblance of a regular update schedule but we'll see… I'm afraid this could just be the eye of the storm.**

 **Many thanks to all of my reviewers and old/new followers/favorites. Your comments make my day.**

 **With love,**

 **A frazzled flames**

 ******AMENDED A/N 05-26-2017******

 **Thank you everyone for being so patient waiting for the next chapter. I know it's been a long time - over a month - since I last updated and I'm afraid it's probably going to be at least another couple weeks (possibly a month) before I manage to write another chapter. My life has been incredibly busy between a week-long conference, gearing up for the field season, attempting to get lab work done, moving houses, selling my horse, getting ready for a committee meeting, and much more. I have not abandoned this. I WILL finish it eventually but right now I honestly don't have the time or energy to do any writing.**

 **I'm sorry for the lag... I really want to write this but I'm so lost as to what should happen next and too tired to figure it out right now.**

 **I hope everone is doing well and I'll hopefully see you all in a couple weeks or as soon as I write the next chapter.**

 **Love,**

 **flames**


	32. Resolutions

**Disclaimer: The usual. I own nothing.**

 **A/N: *sheepish wave* Hi :-)**

 _that is the thing about selfish people. they_

 _gamble entire beings. entire souls their_

 _own. one second they are holding you like the world_

 _in their lap and the next they have_

 _belittled you to a mere picture. a moment._

 _something of the past._

\- Rupi Kaur, _Selfish_

Abraxas tapped his foot impatiently as he stood in the lobby of the Daily Prophet. The secretary chewed her gum disinterestedly, her wand tapping quietly in time with the quill scratching away at the parchment in front of her. She'd looked up briefly as he'd entered the room but quickly dismissed him and gone back to her work, transparently ignoring him. Finally, he cleared his throat pointedly and waited for her to respond.

After a few more moments of shuffling papers the witch looked up from her desktop and blinked at Abraxas. "Yes?" she asked icily, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," Abraxas murmured, "Abraxas Malfoy, here to see the editor."

The girl's eyes went round as she did a double take and seemed to actually see Abraxas for the first time. She took in his platinum hair and grey eyes and then dropped her gaze to absorb his expensively tailored dress robes. Horror flooded her features and her jaw dropped in an 'o' that would have made Abraxas laugh if he wasn't so irritated about having to wait in the first place.

"Mr. Malfoy," she stammered, "I'm ever so sorry for the wait. I'm sure the Editor will see you immediately. Just let me check to see if he's free."

"Tell him if he's not free, he'd better be within the next thirty seconds or I will take my story elsewhere," Abraxas sniffed. The girl flushed red and fumbled with the ancient phone sitting on her desk. She picked up the ear piece and turned the handle of the device a couple of times before clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"Hello Mr. Fawley..." she said, "Yes, I know you said… Yes… I understand… But… I have Mr. Malfoy here to see you." She nodded at something that was said on the other line and then said hurriedly, "Yes, I'll show him in immediately." She hung the phone up with a clatter and looked back up at Abraxas.

"I'll show you right in," she said.

Abraxas sneered at her as she scurried past him and tapped on the door behind her. A low murmur resounded from behind the door that could potentially resemble a deep voice calling "Enter" and the girl flung the door open quickly to admit the Malfoy heir.

"Do I have a story for you, Cadmus," he drawled as he entered the office.

HG*TR

Hermione sucked in a deep breath as she managed to slip past the library without anyone within noticing. She'd been surprised to discover that Tom hadn't locked her into his chambers but wasn't above taking advantage of his negligence. She'd felt her heart leap into her throat for a single instant when the doorknob had turned easily under her hand, the hurt of not being informed of the changes to her plans easing slightly with this small proof that he trusted her on some level. Her resolve hardened a moment later as her logical mind overtook her emotional response.

The only thing this… lapse… proved was the Tom regretted not sharing Dolohov's betrayal with her because he regretted the loss of her confidence in his feelings for her. This could only be a ploy to soften her towards him so he could win her over again. What Tom didn't know was that she was done with the constant battle for dominance the two were constantly engaged in. The emotional rollercoaster she'd ridden since arriving in 1946 had worn her down and she was tired of the conflicting emotions she felt every time she saw him.

So, she was finished with Tom Riddle. But it wasn't that simple. She _knew_ that. Tom had tied her to him too tightly for her to break free from his influence completely. Everything had to appear _normal_ or Tom would employ the full force of his power over her and force her to toe the boundaries he'd set for them. Her breath hitched in her throat remembering the last time he'd reminded her who set the boundaries of their relationship. The panic that crept up on her every time she saw or even thought of her favorite dessert threatened to overwhelm her for an instant before she managed to fight it back.

What she could do though, was remove herself emotionally from the situation. Like she was now. She had to let logic rule her decisions. Tom's attempts to play with her heartstrings couldn't sway her any longer.

*HG*TR*

Orion cringed as Tom stormed into the library. It was obvious the older boy was angry and Orion had been hanging around the manor often enough to know that when Tom was in a bad mood it was best to leave the premises as quickly and quietly as possible. "I want Dolohov," Tom snapped, not looking at anyone in particular but everyone flinched. When no one responded, Tom looked up again, eyes a blazing red. "Now!" he barked.

Orion glanced at Avery and Mulciber as they jumped up from the chairs they'd been lounging in and hastily made their way to the library door. Around the room others were doing the same and Orion moved to follow them.

"Orion, stay," Tom said, just as he reached the door.

Orion stalled by the door, shoulders hunched slightly. He really did not want to be left alone with Tom when he was in this state but disobeying would result in worse consequences.

"Yes, my Lord?" he said as he straightened his shoulders and turned around.

*HG*TR*

Tom smirked as the Black heir straightened his shoulders and turned around to face him. The boy had a spine and didn't back down easily.

"I need your help with our _guest_ ," Tom murmured. He knew he should wait for Hermione before he confronted the Celtic man who she claimed was Connla but he wanted to see for himself what this man was offering them.

*HG*TR*

 **(for Jess6800)**

Hermione smiled as her bare feet sank into the mud surrounding the pond beside the glade. She thought she'd managed to slip from the manor unnoticed and the peace of the space eased away most of the tension she'd been carrying since her argument with Tom and Grindelwald's defeat.

She sat on a large boulder at the edge of the pond not particularly caring that the hem of her skirt fell into the water or that Tom would probably be angry at her later for slipping off without telling anyone. Her thoughts faltered for a moment before she reminded herself sternly that she didn't care anymore and that Tom would just have to deal with the fact that she wasn't one of the demure, obedient pureblood girls he'd grown up with. The problem, she thought glumly, was that he'd somehow wormed his way under her skin while she hadn't been looking. It was hard _not_ caring when you'd already cracked the door open.

Her mood ruined, she scowled and stared into the clear water. After a moment, she sighed and stood up. She needed to distract herself before she became maudlin again. She waded into the center of the pond and, with a wave of her hand, sent all the water within it flying around her in a spiral that left her standing on dry ground in the middle of a watery tornado.

*HG*TR*

Cadmus Fawley, Editor in Chief at the Daily Prophet, raised an eyebrow at Abraxas as he finished telling him what had transpired in Germany that morning. "You actually expect me to believe this fairy tale, Abraxas?" he laughed skeptically, "Come on. Tom may be an incredibly talented wizard but I don't believe for a second that he has the skill—"

Abraxas slammed a stack of photographs on top of Fawley's desk. "Believe it," he said. He rolled his eyes as Cadmus picked the photos up and started flipping through them. His eyes widened at what was depicted there and he looked back up at Abraxas incredulously.

Cadmus Fawley had been a couple of years above them in Slytherin and had never truly been in Tom's cabal, although at the time Tom had started gathering followers around him, Cadmus had hung around Tom's peripheral hoping to ride on Tom's coattails. A bit of an idiot and the sort of person that would get close to a person just to benefit from their skills. Tom had quickly passed Cadmus over once he graduated as inconsequential but now Cadmus might prove his worth if he could spin their story just right.

The handsome brown-haired wizard whistled softly as he regarded Abraxas in a new light. "You're telling the truth."

Abraxas rolled his eyes again. "Obviously," he bit out, "But we know the Auror Department is going to try and take credit so we need someone to put the world straight."

Cadmus nodded, his eyes glinting greedily. "And so, you came to me," Cadmus concluded, "because I have influence with the press."

"You are the press," Abraxas sighed, pinching his nose to ward off his building headache.

Cadmus grinned at him. "I am in a way, I suppose," he said. He looked back down at the photos scattered on his desk and back up at Abraxas. "If I help you," he said slowly, "What's in it for me?"

"Exclusive interviews with those involved," Abraxas said, "Tom's gratitude."

Cadmus nodded. "I think we can do business," he said finally, "I have one request though…"

*HG*TR*

Connla smirked as Tom shoved the cell door open in the cellar, gesturing for Orion to follow him. "I was wondering how long it would take you to visit me," he drawled.

Tom scowled. "I want answers," he said as he closed and warded the door behind him. Orion moved to quietly stand in the corner and drew his wand, holding it loosely in one hand.

Connla laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Who doesn't?" he asked, standing up. Tom narrowed his eyes at the stranger. He was big and burly, towering over Tom's 6-foot height by several inches. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Tom's were hard but Connla's crinkled with suppressed amusement. He was having a hard time coming to terms with who Hermione had said this was. As far as they knew, the Morrigan's first victim. Connla _looked_ Celtic but he knew that looks were deceiving better than anyone. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts and turned his mind to the matter at hand – verifying Hermione's information.

"You are going to answer some questions for me."

Another chuckle and Tom bristled. "Whatever you say, _my lord_." Tom scowled. He was mocking him. His fingers twitched toward the Elder Wand, safely ensconced in a holster but refrained as he saw Connla's eyes light up with mirth at the insignificant gesture.

"Who are you?" Tom demanded. Orion shifted behind him uncomfortably. He'd brought his newest recruit because he'd proven his value and Tom wanted someone else who knew Hermione's _history_ that he could call on to deal with matters – such as this one – when Abraxas or Hermione were busy.

"You know that or you wouldn't be here." Connla straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall. He gestured at Orion. "Does he know?" Orion stared at the Celt in bewilderment. Tom had only told him he might need help restraining the stranger who had taken Hermione earlier that day. He glanced at Tom who shook his head imperceptibly, warning him not to react.

Tom shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not particularly," Connla murmured, watching Orion curiously. Tom's scowl deepened and he made a slight gesture to Orion. Orion swallowed hard and raised his wand causing Connla to laugh. "Oh," he said, "I get it. This is a test of loyalty. He's here to do your dirty work."

Tom glanced at Orion, who had turned white at Connla's observation and nodded imperceptibly. Orion steeled himself for a moment and opened his mouth to utter the incantation to the Cruciatus Curse but was stopped at the last moment by Connla's laughter. "You'll have to be more creative than that, _briste anam_. That spell will accomplish nothing but hurt your _òglach_. I am a _fianna of_ the Morrígu – a little pain will not persuade me to spill my secrets."

Tom snarled incoherently but held up a hand to stall Orion. "Why did they send you?"

A shrug. "They disagreed with how their current _fianna_ was manipulating events."

"Why?"

"Because of what you are. What you become. What you've _made_."

Tom flinched. "I've been informed – vocally – how idiotic that particular idea was," he said drily, "Apparently I was insane to think it in the first place and only spiral further out of control from there."

"Yes, well there is a reason why people have souls and splitting on is never an act to take lightly."

"You think I took the act lightly?" Tom hissed.

"How easy was it?" Connla shot back, "Did you hesitate for a second what the cost of immortality by that route was?"

*HG*TR*

"What have you done?" Harry's voice was hard and accusing and Hermione flinched under the force of his anger as she turned toward him, eyes slowly peeling open. She blinked as she found herself in the colorful garden of a small cottage and inhaled sharply as it came into focus. The garden and cottage were almost unrecognizable in this form – bright, cheerful, neat, with well-kept gardens. It was a sharp contrast to the dark and gloomy building with a bowed caving ceiling that she'd visited with Harry on a fateful Christmas Eve less than six months earlier, but it was obviously the Potter's cottage in Godric's Hollow.

She stared at Harry, completely stricken while his stiff form seemed to radiate fury. "I-I don't know," she whispered, "Harry—"

"What happened to the rules?" Harry hissed, "Do not be seen, do not be heard, make no changes. Bloody hell, Hermione! I thought you were the responsible one! Always parroting on about our rule-breaking and trying to keep us from transgressing too much!"

Hermione felt herself blanch and shook her head helplessly. She hadn't been that girl. Not really. Harry and Ron – hell everyone – had thought she was but she wasn't. She hadn't been above breaking the rules occasionally. Personally, she'd probably broken more than either of her best friends. And if it meant they were safe, she'd tear the world apart with her bare hands. She opened her mouth to say as much but stopped when she saw the anguished expression on Harry's face.

Harry ran a hand through his mussed black hair in agitation and Hermione couldn't help but notice how similar it was to Tom's in color. The two were eerily similar in some ways – they both fussed with their hair when they were upset, and both had short fuses on their tempers. The difference was that Harry's burned out as quickly as it was ignited while Tom's would simmer for days before he sought retribution. "Do you know where we are?" he asked abruptly and Hermione shook herself slightly as she forced her thoughts back to the small garden.

She sucked in a deep breath before she answered. "Godric's Hollow," she said, and felt bolstered by how steady her voice was, "Your parents' cottage."

"Do you know why?" Harry demanded. His voice tore on the last word and Hermione felt something in her break hearing it.

"I would assume that, given Tom defeated Grindelwald earlier today, we're here because I managed to stall the chain of events that led to your parents' deaths," she replied, trying desperately to keep her voice even.

Nemain's cackle cut through the serenity of the garden and for an instant Hermione could see what the cottage had become in her timeline. "Clever girl," Badb purred in her ear. Her long fingers caressed the tops of her shoulders as she flitted around Hermione's stiff posture.

Hermione's eyes flitted to Harry's frozen form and she felt herself relax slightly when she saw his fixed statue-like features. "Go away," she snarled.

Macha tsked from behind her and Hermione spun to face the third aspect of the Morrigan. "Macha," she said stiffly.

"Hermione," Macha greeted her, "You did well."

"That's not what your _messenger_ led me to believe when he kidnapped me earlier today," Hermione spat and was rewarded by Badb's amusement.

"She still has that fire, Macha," Badb hissed.

"Of course, she does," Macha said matter-of-factly, "We do not make mistakes in choosing our _Fianna_. You know that. That is why she is here."

"Fuck that," Hermione snapped, "If I'm doing so well, why send Connla?"

Nemain laughed again, startling her and she winced at the sound. The grating sound of nails of a chalkboard was slowly wheedling its way into her subconscious and the terror it once invoked was slowly dwindling as she was exposed to Nemain's charms more and more often.

"Because you need motivation," Badb murmured as she continued to circle Hermione.

"Because having a deranged trinity goddess breathing down my neck isn't enough of one?" Hermione retorted.

"No," Macha snarled, Hermione's slight seeming to tip her over the edge. Hermione bared her teeth at the crone victoriously. "To show you that you are _ours_. Do not delude yourself child. You are a tool in our hands. Nothing more."

Hermione felt her body still at the admission. She was sure the Morrigu had had no intention of ever telling her that but that Macha had let it slip in a fit of petty rage. The claim of ownership made her bristle but she repressed it. Displaying any reaction to the admission would not benefit her here. If she was a mere tool then she supposed even a tool could cut the hand that wielded it. "You might want to check that temper," she said quietly instead, "You never know when you'll say something you regret."

Macha's lip curled at her and she opened her mouth to respond but Badb intervened, finally stepping away from Hermione and approaching her sister. "Not now, sister," she murmured, "Come. You've said your piece. The rest will slide into place eventually."

Macha seemed to shake herself as she braced herself against Badb. "Yes," she said, eyeing Hermione warily. "Remember your task," she said to Hermione as the triad turned to leave, "You are nowhere near finished yet."

Hermione sagged as the heaviness that had permeated the Potter's Cottage seemed to dissipate with their departure. "Thank god," she whispered and then jolted as Harry's hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"Hermione," he snarled and she looked up into his blazing green eyes apprehensively, "Do you have any idea _what you've done_?"

"I hope so," she breathed.

*HG*TR*

Hermione jolted awake with a start. Her body felt like it had been crammed into a small box and she ached all over. She groaned as she shifted, realizing as her fingers found purchase against bare earth that she'd fallen asleep in the glade. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes again as she remembered why she'd ended up here on the floor.

Tom didn't trust her – even after everything she'd done and that knowledge hurt. She couldn't believe she could have been so stupid to believe that Tom had changed at all. That he cared for her, that he would trust her. She wiped away a stray tear angrily. No, she thought angrily, she'd been through this already. She and Tom were done.

 **A/N: I know it's been forever… I'm so sorry. I'm still floundering a bit for what happens next – being able to visualize the ending does not apparently mean I know how to get there… BUT it shouldn't take me as long to get the next chapter out because I think I worked through the worst of my writer's block in this chapter and I have a couple ideas what to write next.**

 **My love and thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read and review.**

 **Til next time,**

 **flames**


	33. Introspection

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. But you knew that already.

 _I have been incanting my heart_

 _In how to unmiss you,_

 _Spelling myself into mastering the art_

 _Of forgetting the damage_

 _You have done stitching back my soul_

 _From the savage way you ripped it apart._

\- Nikita Gill, _The Art of Unmissing_

His fingers clenched spasmodically around his wand as he watched Tom's whore escape from Malfoy Manor and sprint through the gardens, tears streaming down her face. He _itched_ to make her squirm and scream in agony beneath him. He wanted to make her pay for every perceived loss in his life. The loss of a coveted position by Tom's right hand. The loss of his free will through the blasted signet rings. His right hand shifted to fuss with the aforementioned ring as he contemplated following her to wherever she'd fled to in the gardens. It would be so easy to kill her right now. She was unprotected, isolated, and alone. Tom was off somewhere with Orion who'd replaced him in Tom's hierarchy, Thoros and the others were off searching for him, and Abraxas wasn't even on the property.

The thought was extremely tempting but he knew that Tom could find him using the ring. Tom had simply chosen _not_ to yet, allowing his knights to curry favor with him by attempting to track Dolohov down themselves. No, killing her would only bring Tom's wrath down on him that much quicker and he currently needed the breathing room to figure out how to remove the rings binding him to Tom. Which brought him to why he'd returned here in the first place.

He needed the plans for those rings but he was absolutely certain they'd be in Tom's study which was warded so only Tom could enter. The question was, how would he circumvent the wards without alerting Tom to the intrusion?

*HG*TR*

Abraxas sighed and slouched onto a couch in the drawing room. It had taken two hours for him to hammer out an agreement with Cadmus to spearhead Tom's campaign for power in the media. His eyes slid shut and he winced as he thought about what that agreement was going to cost Tom. There was something to be said about greedy power-hungry Slytherins like Cadmus though, he supposed, At least their desires were simple and easy to fulfill for the most part and it wasn't like Tom wasn't capable of fulfilling Cadmus' desires. It would just be a matter of convincing Tom Cadmus was necessary to their cause.

His eyes shot open as the patio door slammed open and he raised his head in alarm to absorb the sight of a bedraggled Hermione. She was barefoot with the skirt of her cotton day-dress tied up at her waist to give her more mobility. Mud streaked her bare legs with splatters flecking the skirt and bodice of her dress. More mud was splattered across her face, marred by tear trails. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair was so disarrayed that it looked as though a tornado had swept through it.

"Hermione?" he asked in dismay and was disheartened further to see her jump when he called her name.

"Abraxas," she said warily backing away, "I'm sorry… I didn't think anyone would be in here. I thought— I thought everyone was celebrating in the library." She made to back out of the room but Abraxas jumped up and grabbed her wrist before she could escape.

"Wait," he said more sharply than he intended as she tried to shake his hand off. She flinched at his tone and he cursed himself internally for not being gentler. "Hermione…" he said more softly, "What's wrong?"

"No-Nothing," she whispered, "There's nothing wrong."

Abraxas grimaced at the obvious lie and tugged her toward the sitting area. He shoved her onto the couch and kneeled down in front of her. He looked up at her tear-streaked face unhappily. "Come on," he murmured, "We both know that's a lie. What happened? I would have thought you'd be on cloud nine right now. Your plan achieved everything you and Tom hoped it would." At the mention of Tom's name, Hermione's face twisted and Abraxas' heart fell. _Bloody hell Tom,_ he thought, _What have you done to screw up this time?_ "Tom?" he queried as Hermione's closed off and she shook her head stubbornly.

"Not this time," she said sharply, her lips thin, but Abraxas could read the tension in her shoulders easily as she repeated the lie.

"Don't fucking lie to me," he hissed, and Hermione flinched at the sudden harshness he'd exhibited, "You asked Tom for a confidante and he gave you me. I'm your cousin in everything but blood and I thought we didn't _lie_ to each other."

Hermione's lips twitched with a bit of a smile as he alluded to their many past conversations in which she'd confided her fears and hopes for the future with Tom. It seemed like it had been much longer than just 4 months since she'd arrived here.

"He doesn't trust me," she whispered brokenly and Abraxas felt his heart break for her. Tom was going to get an earful from him later. "I don't understand… why didn't he tell me about Dolohov, Abraxas? Did he expect me to defect as well? Doesn't he understand I don't have a choice in this? I'm stuck with him whether I like it or not. He's _ensured_ it with the binding and everything else he's done to tie me to him."

Abraxas pulled her in for a tight hug. "Love," he breathed into her hair, "Tom's an idiot. You've been around long enough to know this. It's not that he doesn't trust you. It's that he's never had anyone he _could_ trust. Believe me, he will sorely regret not telling you the changes to the plan. The two of us will make sure he does. But, love, he cares deeply for you as well. Don't wreck things just because he's a sociopath."

Hermione's shoulders shook slightly in his arms as she collapsed into him. Her body seemed to melt into his chest as she soaked up the reassurance he offered her. "I… I just don't understand how it is he doesn't understand what today _meant_ to me. I spent months planning this Abraxas. How could he just change them without disregard for how that would affect all the variables and contingencies I'd carefully considered?"

Abraxas sighed heavily and pulled away enough that he could smooth her unruly hair back from her face. "Because he's not used to others having a say in his plans. And in this instance, I believe he made the changes in a misguided attempt to protect you."

Hermione's face burned a deep angry red. "Protect me?" she spluttered, the pitch of her voice rising to earsplitting levels as her anger was stoked "Protect me?! He almost got me killed, Abraxas! How can you honestly—"

Abraxas cut her off with a hand over her mouth as she threatened to explode with righteous anger. "Yes," he said in a low voice, "Protect you. Dolohov has had it in for you since day one and you have a tendency to goad him – particularly since you realized Tom threatened him if you were harmed by him in any way." When he saw the color of her face deepen to purple he hurried on in his defense of Tom's actions. "You haven't hidden the fact that you are a Gryffindor at heart dear. You act reasonably well given time to prepare and under pressure to perform well but you still have a tendency to wear your feelings on your sleeves. Tom wouldn't have wanted you to give anything away accidentally by telling you." Finished, he removed his fingers from her mouth warily, waiting for an inevitable explosion.

"So you agree with Tom's decision then," she said in an icy tone that was almost worse than the fiery response he'd expected.

"What?" Abraxas asked, appalled, "No! I think you should have been apprised of Dolohov's betrayal and any subsequent changes to the plan immediately. I told him to tell you. I thought he had until halfway through the mission today. And I'm so sorry. If I'd known he hadn't told you, I would have made sure you knew before we left today, Tom be damned."

Her body seemed to sag as she absorbed his words and her tense form relaxed slightly. "Very well," she said after a few moments, "I don't pretend to understand why Tom chose not to tell me anything and I don't believe he does trust me at all but I'm willing to accept that you do and that you believe I should have known about the changes."

Watching her, Abraxas realized that whatever affection or emotion that had been there before had well and truly been walled off. She hadn't curbed her feelings for Tom so harshly even after he'd betrayed her trust and violated the sanctuary of his mind. And Abraxas knew that Tom had made a grave error in not telling Hermione about Dolohov or allowing her to take part in reworking their plan to account for betrayal, because Hermione Granger-Malfoy was not a witch to give second chances. Not when she was well and truly done with the games Tom insisted on playing.

*HG*TR*

Tom's fist clenched as he and Connla stared at each other. Connla's blue eyes seemed to see deeper than Tom's skin, and he disliked the sensation of the other man delving into his psyche. Connla's question reverberated between them.

Tom swallowed. Waited. How could he answer that question? Had he thought about the cost of immortality? Not particularly. A soul seemed a pittance for what he wanted – the opportunity to live forever. He was afraid of Death. It wasn't something he would admit to anyone – not even himself generally but Connla had hit something deep within him and it resounded between them.

"No," he said finally, watching the other man's eyes acknowledge the truth. He watched them harden with disbelief and loathing, but there was respect there now too. "I didn't," he paused, "I'm beginning to see the extent of my misjudgment though. Hermione has seen to that."

Connla glanced at Orion standing in the corner of the room before he turned his attention back to Tom. "A truthful answer," he said, "I didn't expect that."

"I dislike doing what people expect on principle," Tom quipped back, and the tension broke in the room, relief from it washing around them as Orion snorted and the two immortals grinned at each other.

"And that is what will get the two of you through this mess," Connla said, "The Morrígu think linearly. A nudge here will cause that to happen. The right or wrong word spoken there will cause this chain of events. They do not deal with the unexpected well."

*HG*TR*

Orion was reeling with the information that both his mentor and the prisoner they'd come to interrogate were immortal. The prisoner had said something about splitting his soul and the cost of that. His thoughts raced through what little he knew about soul magic and the destabilizing effect it had on a person's sanity. Part of the reason for the recurring madness in his family, beyond their insistence on inbreeding, was due to Soul Bonding, a favorite marriage bond in past ages. He couldn't believe Tom had had the guts to go through with such a ritual but then again, he possibly hadn't known the full extent of the effects he'd experience either.

He glanced between Tom and the Celtic prisoner trying to gauge what had changed between them. The tension that had been building since they'd entered the room had dissipated abruptly as the two immortals seemed to come to an understanding.

"You understand I can't help directly," Connla said, "The Morrígu must not know of my involvement if we are to deceive them."

Tom nodded. "But you can give us advice."

"Yes," Connla said, "I will not be able to stay but I should be able to contact you at regular intervals."

"As long as we win."

*HG*TR*

Hermione jerked upright as Tom and Connla entered the library laughing. Her eyes widened at the sight. Hermione shuffled to the edge of the couch, glancing at Abraxas as she did. An irrational anger seemed to build in her chest until she couldn't contain it any longer. "What," she asked icily, "is going on here?"

"I spoke to Connla," Tom replied, a note of warning in his voice.

"Without me," she said flatly, her meeting his accusingly, "Have you planned out your world domination now? What, fearless leader, is our next step then? Or are you not going to disclose that information and let your _minions_ dive into action unaware of the dangers they face?"

She smiled thinly as her words hit home and he flinched. "Hermione," he said sharply.

"What?" she hissed, "No one is here that doesn't know the truth of our _relationship_. Abraxas has known since the beginning, Connla is aware of my circumstances because I told him," She nodded toward Orion who had trailed into the library after the Celt and her fiancé as she continued, "and I'm assuming you just informed young Orion of them because you brought him with you to _talk_ with Connla."

Beside her, Abraxas flinched at her boldness. Tom, for his part, remained impassive. "We've planned nothing," Tom murmured, refusing to rise to her provocation. She bit back a retort as Abraxas placed a hand on her shoulder, silently reminding her that despite her desire to start a fight with Tom, it wasn't a good idea. Her circumstances had not changed. She was still bound to Tom whether she liked it or not. Everything she'd told Connla still stood. She'd been backed into a corner with only one way out: through Tom. Through ensuring he never made the same mistakes he had in her timeline. But she was no longer confident that she'd be able to change him enough to matter in the grand scheme of things.

"I think," Connla said slowly, as he glanced between Hermione's stony and Tom's impassive countenance, "That I should speak to Hermione." Hermione glanced at him sharply, and back at Tom who appeared to be about to say something. "Alone."

 **A/N: Hey everyone! So… no I'm not dead. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to post a new chapter. It's been a pretty rough year or so. I'm trying to start writing more again though.**

 **Sending my love.**

 **flames**


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